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Tlie Martyrs of the Coliseum. 




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THE 



Martyrs of the Coliseum 



or 



; 



HISTORICAL RECORDS OF THE 
GREAT AMPHITHEATRE OF ANCIENT ROME 

BY THE 
REV. A. J. O'REILLY 

miss. ap. st. mary's, cape town 



'We are made a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men." — i Cor. iv. 9 




KELLY, PIET & COMPANY 

174 Baltimore Street 
1872 






By Tn^sfe* 



f® RECEIVED. **\ 







HE present work, imperfect as it is, has the 
recommendation of being the only one on 
the subject ever published in the English 
language. With a slight modification, this 
assertion maybe extended to every other European 
tongue. Some works .have been printed in Italy on 
the Coliseum, but they treat it as a Pagan monument, 
or as a work of art. I have not found any one give 
more than a couple of pages to its Christian records. 
Marangoni's " Memorie Sucre e Profane delV Anfiteatro 
F/avio," which is by far the best published, and from 
which I have largely drawn in the following pages, 
does not give more than some of the names of the 
Martyrs of the Coliseum, with references to their 
Acts. All admit that the Coliseum was sanctified by 
the blood of thousands of martyrs ; they mention a 
few of the most important, and then pass on as if the 
world no longer took an interest in the most sacred 
and solemn reminiscences of the Christian past. 

Cardinal Wiseman, in his preface to Fabiola, wrote 
thus : " If the modern Christian wishes really to know 



IV PREFACE. 

what his forefathers underwent for the Faith during 
three centuries of persecution, we would not have him 
content himself with visiting the Catacombs, as we 
have endeavored to do, and thus learn what sort of 
life they were compelled to live ; but we would advise 
him to read those imperishable records, the Acts of 
the Martyrs, which will show him how they were 
made to die. We know of no writings so moving, so 
tender, so consoling, and so ministering of strength 
to the faith and hope, after God's inspired words, as 
these venerable monuments. And if our reader, so 
advised, have not leisure to read much upon this sub- 
ject, we would limit him willingly to even one speci- 
men, — the genuine Acts of SS. Perpetua and Felicitas. 
It is true that they will be best read by the scholar in 
their plain African Latinity, but we trust that some 
one will soon give us a worthy English version of 
these, and some other similar early Christian docu- 
ments When our minds are sad, or the petty 

persecution of our times incline our feeble hearts to 
murmur, we cannot do better than turn to those 
golden, because truthful legends, to nerve our courage 
by the contemplation of what children and women, 
catechumens and slaves, suffered unmurmuring for 
Christ" 

I need scarcely say how I have taken up, according 
to my ability, this suggestion of the most eminent 
of modern writers. I have long loved to prize the 
deep mine of spiritual riches contained in the Acts of 
the Martyrs. But these valuable records of the past 
are not in the hands of all. The outlay required to 



PREFACE. V 

purchase the fifty large folio tomes of the Bollandists, 
and the erudition necessary to understand the old 
Latin and Greek in which they are written, place them 
above the reach of the great majority of readers. 
Any translation, therefore, of these memorials of the 
early Church must be interesting and useful. The 
virtue, the power, and the extraordinary lives of the 
first Christians, are in wonderful contrast with those 
of the Christians of the present day. Yet Christi- 
anity is now as brilliant and powerful as when it was 
triumphant in the Coliseum. It is the same faith that 
animates the virtue of the righteous ; it is the same 
Holy Spirit that guides and preserves the imperish- 
able Church built upon the rock. 

In the following translations I have not always 
confined myself to the literal rendering of the origi- 
nal. I have, on the contrary, endeavored to avoid 
the monotony and dryness of verbatim translations. 
I have taken the ideas given in the Acts > and moulded 
them into English form, often casting flowers around 
them, when none such were given in the original. 
This is particularly the case in the romantic history 
of Placidus. Where I have met with extraordinary 
passages in the most authentic Acts, I have quoted 
the text in the notes, and given the necessary refer- 
ences. 

Suddenly called away to the scene of my early 
labors, I have submitted to the judgment of my 
superiors in giving the manuscript to the printers in 
its imperfect state, and without further thought for 
its success or failure, I commit the little volume to 



VI PREFACE. 

the indulgence of my readers. If perchance the 
beautiful and interesting matter I have hastily thrown 
together, should induce some experienced and sl^lful 
writer to take up and treat, in a masterly and histori- 
cal manner, this important part of the early history 
of Christianity, I shall feel repaid for my humble 
efforts ; if, moreover, these touching tales of love, these 
marvels and miracles flowing from the mercy of God, 
and found in every page of these records, excite in 
the Christian reader even one sentiment of piety and 
charity, I shall feel that my labor has not been spent 
in vain. 





% 

CHAPTER I. 
Introduction 9 

CHAPTER II. 

The Origin and Early History of the Coliseum 14 

CHAPTER III. 

The Entertainments and Spectacles of the Coliseum 20 

CHAPTER IV. 
The Christians 31 

CHAPTER V. 
The First Martyr of the Coliseum 35 

CHAPTER VI. 
St. Ignatius , 44 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Roman General and his Family 61 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Young Bishop *.... s in 

CHAPTER IX. 
The Sardinian Youth 138 

CHAPTER X. 

Alexander, Bishop and Martyr , 170 

vii 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XI. PAGB 

The Senators 196 

CHAPTER XII. • 
St. Martina 219 

CHAPTER XIII. 
The Persian Kings 230 

CHAPTER XIV. 
The Acts of Pope Stephen 242 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Two Hundred and Sixty Soldiers 262 

CHAPTER XVI. 
The Acts of St. Prisca 267 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Chrysanthus and Daria 282 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
The Persecution of Diocletian 305 

CHAPTER XIX. 
Acts of St. Vitus and Companions 328 

CHAPTER XX. 
The Last Martyr 341 

CHAPTER XXI. 
Telemackus Still Triumphant 352 

CHAPTER XXII. 
The Coliseum in the Middle Ages 364 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
Other Remarkable Events 378 

CHAPTER XXIV. 
The Conclusion , t , 39r 



/l/^r^ £?&fi ixaJ^^^^a^I^ 9 




THE 



Martyrs of the Coliseum. 



CHAPTER I. 



INTRODUCTION. 

'• And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon 
All this, and cast a wide and tender light 
Which softened down the hoar austerity 
Of rugged desolation, and filled up, 
As 'twere, anew the gaps of centuries, 
Leaving that beautiful which still was so, 
And making that which was not, till the place 
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er 
With silent worship of the great of old, 
The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule 
Our spirits from their ums." 

Byron's Manfred. 

N the year 590, when St. Gregory the Great was 
elected to the chair of St. Peter, ambassadors 
were sent from the Emperor Justinian in the 
East to congratulate his Holiness and tender the 
usual spiritual allegiance to the Vicar of Christ. 
When they were leaving Rome, they requested the holy 
Father to give them some relic to take back to their own 
country. St. Gregory led them to the Coliseum. Taking up 
some of the clay of the arena, he folded it in a napkin, and 
handed it to the ambassadors. They seemed not to ap- 

9 




IO THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM: 

preciate the gift, and respectfully remonstrated. The holy- 
Pope, raising his eyes and his heart towards heaven, with 
love and kindness beaming in his countenance, said to 
them, "You know not what you have; " and taking the 
napkin in his hand, unfolded it, and showed it to them, 
stained with blood — the blood of the martyrs who suffered 
in the Coliseum ! l 

There is no ruin of the ancient world so interesting as 
the great amphitheatre at Rome. It stands in stupendous 
magnificence, in the midst of the seven hills of the old 
capital of the world, as a monument of everything that was 
great or terrible in the past. The immensity and majesty 
of its designs tell the perfection of art, and its reminis- 
cences recall all the horrors of persecution and the triumphs 
of Christianity. It was the battlefield in which the Church 
fought for the conversion of the Pagan world ; the blood 
of the martyred heroes who fell in the fight still mingles 
with the clay Of the sanctified arena; it was this blood 
Gregory gave to the ambassadors who wished to have some 
relics from the city of the martyrs. 

The storms of seventeen centuries have rolled over the 
mighty amphitheatre, and left it as gigantic in its ruins as 
thrilling in its history. Tier rises on tier to the blue vault 
of heaven; the wandering eye cannot grasp its immensity; 
and although shaken by earthquakes and the lightnings of 
heaven, and rifled of its travertine by the spoilers of the 
Middle Ages, it still stands with imperishable grandeur in 
the midst of the seven hills, "a noble wreck of ruinous 
perfection." 

We remember well our first visit to the ruins of the 
Coliseum. It was an event of our life. We found in the 
majestic pile a realization of the highest flights of fancy. 

1 The same is recorded of Pius V. See lessons of his feast in the 
Dominican Breviary. 



INTRODUCTION. II 

A thousand thoughts rushed to our mind ; the silent 
majesty that shrouded those immense tottering walls, and 
their thrilling history, made us stand fixed to the ground 
in admiration and awe. A momentary glance, a thought 
filled up the gap of centuries ; the marble seats were again 
crowded before the mind's eye with thousands of human 
beings ; the wounded lion — the dying gladiator — the 
kneeling martyr, appeared in rapid succession on tire 
blood-stained arena; the deafening shout of the excited 
populace; the condemnation of the Christians, and the 
call for their blood to be given to satiate the thirst of the 
lions; — all formed a picture of the past that sent*a thrill 
to the heart! We stood on theWena that saw Rome's 
infancy and the Church's glory. The very clay under our 
feet was holy ! one day it would give up what, in eternity, 
would be one of the brightest ornaments of heaven — the 
blood of the martyrs ! With feelings of awe, veneration, 
and delight, we knelt at the foot of the cross — that cross 
which was the standard of Christianity, and which now 
flings its triumphant shadow over the silent arena in which 
all the power of man had endeavored to destroy it. 

While wrapt in thought, we heard sounds of admiration 
expressed in several languages from groups of tourists who 
stood gazing at the mighty ruin. Thousands pour annu- 
ally into the Eternal City, and justly hasten to the Coliseum 
as one of the most interesting of the many sights of Rome. 
Here the trader from beyond the Rocky Mountains ctands 
beside the gold-digger from Australia, and, as was our 
case, the missioner on sick - leave from the Cape of 
Good Hope could shake hands with an old school com- 
panion from the British Isles. From morning till night 
the wondering stranger is seen in the arena of the mighty 
ruin, and long too after nightfall, when silence and dark- 
ness have lent additional romance to its magnificence. 



12 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

When the pale light of the moon swells its sombre arches 
into marvellous immensity, the sentimental tourist stands 
in the bleak solitude of the gigantic fabric, and feeds his 
vivid fancy with shadowy pictures of castles, and towers, 
and other amphitheatres that spring from the broken 
arches and crumbling walls. The Coliseum, once seen, 
is never forgotten, whether viewed under the full blaze of 
the scorching Italian sun, or under the magic influence of 
the pale light of the moon. 

Our first hour in the Coliseum was one of regret. The 
present contributed more than the past to cast a gloom over 
our thoughts. The terrible scenes that passed in that arena, 
the wholesale slaughter of innocent victims, the inhuman 
shout that consigned the brave gladiator to his doom, the 
horrors of its bloodshed, made it well called by Tertullian 
a place without mercy y 1 yet the curse of Paganism, that 
brooded over this temple of the furies, steeled the hearts of 
the spectators, and brought on demoniac infatuation and 
blindness. This picture was painful, but another thought 
gave us sorrow. Thousands that pour into the Coliseum 
are strangers to the sacred reminiscences that hang around 
its hallowed ruins. That spirit of infidelity which nowa- 
days robs literature of every sentiment of religion, will not 
permit history to give the most sacred and solemn part of 
its records. Irreligious guide-books are in the hands of 
every traveller, books that devote whole pages to the de- 
scription of the infamous and bloody practices of Paganism, 
but dare not give one paragraph, or even make an allusion, 
to the sufferings of the martyrs. A description is given of 
the Pagan monument, but no mention is made of its con- 
nection with the first ages of the Church. The educated 
Christian sees more in the Coliseum than imperishable 
walls, or sublime designs of architecture, shadowed forth 

1 De Spectaculis, cap. xix. 



INTRODUCTION. 1 3 

in the gigantic remnants of the mouldering ruin : he sees 
before him a monument of that alone which was great and 
noble in the past — the triumph of his faith. He remem- 
bers that every niche of that arena has been dyed with the 
blood of martyrs. He feels that their triumph is his own. 
After the lapse of seventeen hundred years he is united 
with them in the unbroken chain of communion, and at 
the same moment that he is startled with the majesty and 
magnificence of the ruin, he kneels to kiss the rude cross 
that is raised within its precincts to commemorate this 
greatest battle-field of the followers of the Crucified. 

It was this thought which suggested this little work. 
The Coliseum is the largest and most remarkable of the 
ruins of Ancient Rome ; it is more remarkable on account 
of the martyrs who suffered in it, and the miracles it wit- 
nessed. These are but little known. We have employed 
our leisure hours in putting together a few of the most 
authentic records. We present them in their rough and 
unadorned simplicity to the Christian who loves to honor 
the heroes of the early Church, to the student who loves 
to pore over the records of the martyrology, and to the 
tourist who visits the Eternal City, and asks in vain from 
his guide or from his friends, "Who were the martyrs 
of the Coliseum ? ' ' 





CHAPTER II. 



THE ORIGIN AND EARLY HISTORY OF THE COLISEUM. 




HE memory of the Emperor Augustus was dear to 
the Roman people. By his great skill and talent, 
he not only won for himself the sceptre of su- 
preme power, but raised up the Empire itself 
among the nations of the world, and commenced what is 
generally known as its golden age. His natural virtues stood 
in agreeable contrast with the debaucheries and vices of his 
immediate successors. To him is due the honor of having 
first designed the erection of the amphitheatre. Having 
embellished the city with baths and temples of surpassing 
magnificence, he conceived the idea of erecting an immense 
amphitheatre for the gladiatorial spectacles, which should 
exceed in dimensions and splendor every other building in 
the world. Death cut him off before he could carry out his 
great project. Years rolled on, and seven Emperors, who 
had neither energy nor talent to carry out the immense 
design, sat on the throne of Augustus. Yet it was not for- 
gotten, and the cry of the people for the commencement 
of the amphitheatre was heard by Vespasian ; and to this 
enterprising Emperor is due the erection of this greatest 
work of antiquity, and now grandest ruin in the world. 1 

1 " Fecit ampliitheatrum urbi media uti destinasse compererat Au- 
gustus." — Suet, in Vcspas. ix. 

14 



ORIGIN AND EARL Y HISTOR V OF THE COLISEUM. 1 5 

Vespasian was proud and ambitious ; he sought to rival 
the fame of Augustus, and in the second year after his 
elevation to the throne he commenced the Coliseum : this 
was in the year of our Lord 72. He died before it was 
completed ; and although there were more than thirty 
thousand persons constantly employed, it took eight years 
in its erection, and was dedicated by Titus in a. d. 80. The 
work was not perfectly finished until the reign of Domitian. 
This stupendous building was erected on the site of a 
fish-pond in the gardens of Nero. Standing .in the midst 
of the seven hills, and in the very heart of the ancient city, 
it not only surpassed in immensity and magnificence the 
two other marble amphitheatres which Rome possessed, 
but even outshone the glittering splendors of the golden 
house of Nero. Both Vespasian and Titus availed them- 
selves of the experience of their travels in the East, for they 
cast into the designs of the amphitheatre all the boldness 
and majesty of the Syrian and Egyptian architecture, with 
the embellishment and refinement of Grecian art. Its im- 
mensity, even in its ruins, is surprising, whilst its arches 
rise in magical proportions over each other, in the Ionic, 
Doric, and Corinthian orders. Size, beauty, and strength 
have been combined to render it the largest, the most beau- 
tiful, and the most durable of ancient monuments. Raised 
in the air as high as the Palatine and Celian hills, a moun- 
tain without and a valley within, it unquestionably surpassed 
anything that Greece, or Egypt, or Rome had seen before. 
Martial, the poet, who saw it spring from its foundation, 
declares 1 that Rome had no longer anything to envy in the 
1 " Barbara pyramidum sileat 'miracula Memphis : 

Assiduus jacet nee Babylona labor. . . . 
Aere nee vacuo pendentia Mausolea 

Laudibus immodicis Cares in astra ferant; 
Omnis Gesareo cedat labor amphitheatro, 

Unum prae cunctis fama loquatur opus." 

Martial, Spec. i. 1. 



1 6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

East, since her superb amphitheatre was more wonderful 
than the pyramids of Memphis or the works of Babylon. 
Yet the most approved critics define the Coliseum as an 
Oriental edifice dressed in a Grecian costume. 

The greatest works of man have generally their origin in 
destruction. In the history of the world there has scarcely 
ever been a great building or a nation that did not rise on 
the ruins of another. The workmen of the Coliseum were 
the captive Jews that adorned the triumph of Titus; the 
material was partly taken from the fallen house of Nero. 
Christians may look on it as a mighty monument, raised to 
commemorate the fulfilment of prophecy. The plough has 
passed over the city and temple of Jerusalem; its proud 
people have been humbled to the dust and scattered to the 
four winds of heaven. Seventy thousand of this conquered 
race were brought to Rome by Titus. Having adorned 
his triumph, they were divided into three classes; the 
women and children up to sixteen years of age were sold 
as slaves for the most miserable prices. Our Blessed Lord. 
was sold for thirty pieces of silver ; after the triumph of 
Titus, you could get thirty Jews for one piece of silver. 
Some of the men were sent to Egypt to work in the marble 
quarries, but by far the largest number were retained for 
the works of the Coliseum. The number is variously esti- 
mated from thirty thousand to fifty thousand. Thus the 
walls of that mighty emblem of everything gloomy and 
horrible were cemented with the tears of a fallen people. 

The upper structures of the Coliseum were raised by 
material taken from the fallen house of the Caesars on the 
Palatine. When Vespasian and Titus gave orders for the 
destruction of the greater part of the house of Nero, they 
performed an act most pleasing to the Roman people. It 
was a monument of hateful splendor that rose on the ruins 
of their burned city ; its riches and its grandeur could but 
remind them of tyranny and oppression. No sooner was 



ORIGIN AND EARL Y HIS TOR Y OF THE COLISE UM. I J 

the order given than the populace joined in the work of 
devastation. Immense boulders of gilded travertine, col- 
umns, and capitals, and marble cornices of the most elaborate 
carving, bonds of iron and gold, and imperishable masses 
of brickwork, were rudely and indiscriminately hurried 
away to ornament or fill up the great work of the Coliseum. 

The mighty amphitheatre itself will become a ruin, and, 
after the lapse of centuries, will be stricken by the hand of 
time, and will, in its own turn, lend the material of its 
fallen arches to build the mediaeval and modern palaces of 
the Eternal City. The immense quadrilateral palace of 
the Venetian embassy, the Farnese, the Barbarini, and others 
of lesser note, sprung from the ruins of the Coliseum. Thus 
it is in the history of man ; the greatest monuments of 
modern splendor have risen, phcenix-like, from the ruins 
of the mighty structures that our ancestors vainly imagined 
imperishable. 

We must now take a view of the amphitheatre in its per- 
fect state. Scattered fragments of description have been 
collected from ancient historians, and the picture is nearly 
complete. Fancy can fill up many details from the ruins 
as they now stand. 

It has a beautiful elliptic figure, 564 feet in length and 
467 in breadth. It was raised on eighty immense arches, 
and rose in four successive orders of architecture to the 
height of 140 feet. The whole building covered a space 
equal to six English acres. The outside was incrusted with 
marble and decorated with statues. The slopes of the vast 
concave which formed the inside were filled and surrounded 
with sixty or eighty rows of seats of marble, covered with 
cushions, and capable of receiving with ease a hundred 
thousand spectators. 1 Sixty-four vomitories (for by that 

1 Cardinal Wiseman, in a note in Fabiola, says, it could hold at least 
2* B 



1 8 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

name the doors were very aptly distinguished) poured 
forth the immense multitudes ; the entrances, the passages, 
and staircases were contrived with such exquisite skill, that 
each person, whether of the senatorian, equestrian, or ple- 
beian order, arrived at his destined place without trouble 
or confusion. 

The lowest row of seats next to the arena, now com- 
pletely covered by earth and debris, was assigned to the 
senators and foreign ambassadors, and was called the 
podium. There, also, on an elevated platform was the 
Emperor's throne, shaded by a canopy like a pavilion. 
The place for the manager, or editor of the games, as he 
was called, and the vestal virgins, was beside the Emperor's 
seat. 

The podium was secured with a breastwork or parapet 
of gold or gilt bronze against the irruption of the wild 
beasts. As a further defence, the arena was surrounded 
with an iron railing and a canal. The equites, or second 
order of nobles, sat in fourteen rows behind the senators. 
The rest of the people sat behind on seats called fiopularia, 
rising tier above tier to a gallery with a colonnade in front, 
running all round the amphitheatre immediately under the 
awning, and generally occupied by females, soldiers, and 
attendants. 

Nothing was omitted that could in any way be subser- 
vient to the convenience and pleasure of the spectators. 
The immense canopy or awning, which at times was 
stretched over the entire expanse from the outer wall, as 
a protection from the sun or rain, was one of the wonders 
of the Coliseum. It requires a stretch of imagination to 
believe it. When we stand, even now, in the midst of the 
ruins, and see the vast expanse of the heavens above us, the 

a hundred and fifty thousand spectators ; but none of the Italian anti- 
quaries have mentioned more than a hundred thousand. 



ORIGIN AND EARL Y HIS TOR Y OF THE COLISE UM. 1 9 

mind is lost in doubt and conjecture about the possibility 
of such a marvellous fact. Yet all the historians who have 
written of the Coliseum mention it as if there were nothing 
extraordinary about it. Lampridius mentions that the men 
who were to work this awning were dressed as sailors, and 
numbered several hundreds. 1 At a signal given, when 
there was fear of rain, or the sun was too hot, there would 
be a simultaneous movement among the attendants — the 
cords would creak, and the mighty sails would roll gradu- 
ally to the centre, each sail meeting in perfect harmony, 
and forming together an immense sheet that completely 
covered the interior. Stranger still the fact that this awn- 
ing, in the time of Titus, was purple silk, fringed with gold. 3 
The air was continually refreshed by the playing fountains, 
and an infinity of small tubes dispersed a shower of the most 
delicious perfumes which descended on the spectators like 
aromatic dews. The arena, in the centre of which stood 
the statue of Jupiter, formed the stage, and derived its name 
from being usually strewed with the finest white sand. Un- 
derneath, they had mechanism of the most extraordinary 
and complicated character, so that the arena could, dur- 
ing the games, assume different forms in quick succes- 
sion. At one time it would seem to rise out of the earth like 
the Garden of the Hesperides, and was afterwards broken 
into the rocks and caverns of Thrace. Subterranean pipes 
conveyed an inexhaustible supply of water, and what just 
before appeared a level plain, might be suddenly converted 
into a wide lake covered with armed vessels, to delight the 
people with nautical entertainments. 

l " A militibus classiariis qui vela ducebant in amphitheatre*," etc. — 
Lamprid. in Commotio. 

2 " Sous Titus un tissu de soie et d'or avec des broderies s'e"tend sur 
le nouvel amphitheatre." — Gerbet, Esqtiisse tie Rome Chretienne, ii, 
345- 





CHAPTER III. 

THE ENTERTAINMENTS AND SPECTACLES OF THE 
COLISEUM. 

HE games and amusements which delighted the 
people of Rome present a spectacle of horror that 
sends a thrill to the very heart. No entertainment 
was popular unless accompanied by bloodshed 
and the loss of life ; no mock tragedies would be cheered 
in this temple of the furies. The amusements of the Co- 
liseum form the darkest page in the records of the past. 

During the greater celebrations there was scarcely a day 
passed in which some hundreds of mangled carcasses of 
men and beasts were not dragged from the arena to the 
spoliorium or dead-house. The games commenced about 
ten, and often lasted till dark; during all these hours, 
victim was falling upon victim ; the spectators, more and 
more intoxicated by each new draught of blood, drunk in 
by their glistening eyes, yelled for fresh victims and more 
blood. On more than one occasion it happened that every 
animal in the vivarium was slain in one day. Eutropius, 
speaking of Titus, says, "And when he had built the am- 
phitheatre at Rome, he inaugurated the games, and caused 
five thousand beasts to be slain." (Eutropius, book ix. 
ch. x.) Gladiators, slaves, and Christians were the prin- 
cipal victims of the games. 

20 



ENTERTAINMENTS OF THE COLISEUM. 21 

Yet there were bright spots in this picture of carnage — 
there were moments when the universal applause of the 
populace rang through every portion of the building in 
approbation of scenes of beauty, innocence, and mechan- 
ism, that can scarcely be rivalled in modern art. Their 
great games, which often lasted for entire weeks, were a 
strange mixture of the comic and the tragic, the jovial and 
the horrible. A favorite amusement was to witness the 
acting of trained animals in the circus. The writers of 
those times tell us of an elephant that was a rope-walker, 1 
of a bear which would sit in a chair, dressed as a matron, 
while carried around the arena by attendants. 2 Then we 
have an account of the king of the forest, with gilt claws, 
and mane bespangled with gold and precious stones, which, 
as a strange contrast to successive scenes, was made to 
represent the virtue of clemency, being trained to play 
with a hare. He would take the frightened little animal in 
his mouth, put it on his back, and lavish on it a thousand 
caresses. 3 Then we read of twelve tame elephants, six 
male and six female, dressed in the togas of men and 
women, who would sit at table, and eat delicate viands 

1 " Elephas erectus ad summum theatri fornicem, unde decurrit in 
fune sessorem gerens." — Dio. in Neron. 

Also Suetonius in Galba, cap, vi., says : " Galba elephantos funam- 
bulos dedit." 

2 " Vidi ursum mansuetum quae cultu matronali sella vehebatur." — 
Apul. Asin. lib. xii. 

3 " Leonum 
Quos velox leporum timor fatigat. 
Dimittunt, repetunt, amantque captos ; 
Et securior est in ore prseda 
Laxos cui dare, perviosque rictus 
Gaudent et timidos timere dentes, 
Mollem frangere dum pudet rapinam." 

Martial, lib. i. Epigram, cv. 14. 



22 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and drink wine from golden cups, and would use with the 
greatest delicacy and care that extraordinary trunk, with 
which they can lift a pin from the ground, or tear the 
forest-oak from its roots. 1 Others were trained to the Pyr- 
rhic dance, and would spread flowers on the arena. They 
had a peculiar strong drink to which the elephants were 
partial ; it inebriated them, and caused them to go through 
antics and manoeuvres that produced incessant roars of 
laughter from the spectators. 

We learn from Martial and others that there was another 
species of amusement of a grander and more exciting char- 
acter, but intermingled and tainted with that spirit of cruelty 
which characterized most of the games of the amphitheatre. 
As already mentioned, the underground passages served as 
keeps and caves for the beasts, or might become immense 
aqueducts to flood the arena, which became a lake for naval 
entertainments. Ships with armed men were floated, and 
fought desperately with each other, as if an empire depended 
on the issue of the battle. On one occasion a large ship 
was introduced to this artificial lake, full of men and ani- 
mals, and at a given signal it opened its sides and fell to 
pieces, and cast its living freight into the waters. Then 
came all the horrors of a shipwreck : the screams from the 
animals and the piteous cries of the drowning slaves, 
sounded like music to the Roman ear. 

By a combination of mechanical skill, the fable of 
Orpheus was almost realized. The soil of the arena was 
ma.de to open suddenly in a hundred places, and trees 
would spring up clothed in the deepest green foliage, and 
bearing golden apples in imitation of the fabulous trees of 
the Garden of the Hesperides. Wild animals were let loose 
into this enchanting forest ; the trees would move to the 
sound of a flute; and that nothing might be wanting to 

1 See Buling de Venation. Circ. cap. xx. 



ENTERTAINMENTS OF THE COLISEUM. 2$ 

the reality of the representation, the unfortunate slave who 
had the honor of representing the Orpheus of the spectacle 
was torn to pieces by a bear. 1 A failure in any of the 
mechanism of these shows was considered a slight to the 
Emperor, and the director was punished with public death. 
Were it not for this inhuman and barbarous custom, which 
cramped with fear the greatest genius of the Empire, the 
Coliseum would have witnessed many a triumph of mechan- 
ical art. 

Among the spectacles founded on Pagan mythology, 
Martial makes mention in his Epigrams of a parricide who 
was crucified in the Coliseum ; also of a horrible scene of 
Daedalus raised in the air with false wings, and then per- 
mitted to fall into the arena, where he was devoured by 
wild animals. On another occasion a slave was obliged to 
represent Mutius Scsevola, and to put his hand into a fire 
until completely burned. The wretch who had to suffer 
this awful cruelty had another alternative, for his garments 
were covered with pitch and tar, and if he wavered or 
flinched for a moment, he was burned alive. 

But by far the most common amusement of the Coliseum 
were the combats with the beasts and the gladiators. The wild 
animals were made to fight with each other, then with men ; 
and lastly, man with his fellow-man. When wild animals 
were put into the arena to fight with each other, everything 
that could rouse or excite them was studied with the most 
cruel skill. The colors they hated most were scattered in 
profusion around them ; they were beaten with whips, and 
their sides were torn with iron hooks ; hot plates of iron 
were fastened to them, and even balls of fire were placed 
on their backs. Thus the enraged animals would run round 
the arena ; the earth would tremble under the thunder of 
their agonizing roars, and the inflated chest would seem to 
1 Martial, Spect. xxi. I. 



24 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

burst under the fire of passion that drove them mad. Their 
eyes sparkled with rage, and tearing up the sand with 
their claws, they enveloped themselves in a cloud of dust. 
In their fury they tore each other in pieces. 

If, as sometimes happened, an infuriated lioness or tigress 
should kill the men and animals presented to her, frantic 
shouts of applause rose from every side of the amphitheatre, 
and whilst, mistress of the battle-field, she walked over the 
bodies of her victims, the people called aloud for her liber- 
ty, to have her sent back again to her native deserts. 

The combats between men and beasts were still more 
popular. The Emperors themselves used to take part in 
them, and even women had the hardihood to enter the 
arena, and combat with the most ferocious animals. There 
Lsvere two classes of people destined for this species of sport ; 
— one was armed — they carried weapons according to 
their choice ; the others were poor slaves, captives, or 
criminals, who were exposed defenceless to the beasts. To 
this class the Christians belonged. They were distinguished 
from the gladiators by the opprobrious sobriquet of Bes- 
tiaries. 

The combat of gladiators is supposed to have been of 
Etruscan origin. It formed part of the funeral obsequies 
of great men, according to the Pagan belief that the shades 
or manes of the dead were appeased by the shedding of 
blood. This strange funeral rite was first introduced into 
Rome at the obsequies of Junius Brutus in the year 490 of 
the city, and about 260 years before the Christian era. It 
seems to have been so pleasing to the cruel tastes of the 
Roman people, as to have soon become a common pastime. 
The gladiatorial fights were, strictly speaking, the games 
of the Coliseum, and to these it owes its existence. Such 
was the rage of the people for these sights, that it is believed 
that a hundred thousand gladiators fell within its walls. 



ENTERTAINMENTS OF THE COLISEUM. 2$ 

During twelve days Trajan made- as many as ten thousand 
gladiators fight successively; almost all the succeeding 
Emperors followed his example. The men who fought as 
gladiators were generally captives taken in war, or slaves. 
At a later period, it became a kind of profession, and free- 
men and noblemen, maddened by enthusiasm, are said to 
have entered the lists to fight in deadly combat with the 
poor captive from Thrace or Gaul. Even women appeared 
in the arena as Amazons, and fought frantically and bravely, 
amid the unceasing acclamations of the people. 

We are told by Herodian and Lampridius that the Em- 
peror Commodus, not content with witnessing the fights of 
the gladiators, entered the arena himself, almost naked 
and armed with a short sword, and would challenge them 
to combat. Those who contended with him were enjoined 
not to inflict any wound ; but the moment they received a 
slight wound they fell on their knees before him, and de- 
claring themselves defeated, sued for mercy. Having thus 
defeated a thousand gladiators, he ordered the head to be 
taken from the colossal statue of the sun, and his own 
image placed in its stead ; on the base of the monument- 
he put this inscription, Mille gladiatorum victor? — "The 
conqueror of a thousand gladiators." 

After the procession of the gods (with which the games 
of the amphitheatre, as well as those of the circus, were 
commenced), the gladiators who were doomed to fight, 
were also led around the arena in procession ; 2 then they 
were matched in pairs, and their swords examined by the 
manager. As a prelude to the battle, and to create the 
proper pitch of excitement, they fought first with wooden 
swords ; then, upon a signal being given by sound of trum- 

1 Marangoni, p. 38. 

2 "Jam ostentata per arenam periturorum corpora mortis suce pompara 
auxerant."— QuiNTlLlAN, Declam. ix. 

3 



26 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

pet, these were laid aside and deadly weapons were sub- 
stituted. The interest of the assembled thousands was soon 
carried to the highest pitch of excitement ; from time to 
time they burst into deafening shouts of applause, or a 
dread silence reigned throughout the vast amphitheatre, a 
suspense which only ended in death of one of the com- 
batants. When a gladiator received a wound, his adversary 
would cry out, " He has got it ! " — {Hoc habet /) Some- 
times the wounded wretch would endeavor to conceal his 
wound, or pretend it was of no account, and perhaps would 
fall to the ground in making his last and desperate rush on 
his adversary. But his fate depended on the pleasure of 
the people ; if they wished him to be saved, they pressed 
down their thumbs, and if to be slain, they turned up their 
thumbs. The latter was more generally the awful verdict 
of the unfeeling mob ; the cry of recipe ferrum would 
fall with terrible vehemence on the dying man's ears. This 
simply meant that he was to submit to his fate bravely and 
with dignity; that he should show_ no disgraceful writhings 
or contortions of pain, that he should have even an art in 
the awful agonies of death. "The people," says Seneca, 
"thought themselves insulted when he would not die will- 
ingly; and by look, by gesture, and by vehemence of 
manner, called for his immediate execution." 

Lactantius, in the sixth book of his sublime Apology for 
the true religion, gives an idea of the barbarity of these 
games in the very words by which he condemns them : — 
"Whoever takes delight in the sight of blood, although it 
be that of a criminal justly condemned to death, denies his 
conscience. But the Pagans have turned the shedding of hu- 
man blood into a pastime. So totally has humanity receded 
from men's breasts, that they make their amusement con- 
sist in abetting murder and sacrificing human life. Now, I 
ask, can those be called just and pious who not only permit 



ENTERTAINMENTS OE THE COLISEUM. 2J 

the slaughter of one who lies prostrate under the drawn 
sword, supplicating for life, but who demand that he be 
murdered ; who give their cruel and inhuman suffrages for 
death, not satiated with the wounds and gore of their hapless 
victim ? Nay, when stretched dead before them on the sand, 
they command the lifeless and bleeding body to be stabbed 
over and over again, and cut and mangled lest they should 
be deluded by a sham homicide. They get furious with the 
combatants who do not quickly dispatch each other, and, 
as if they thirsted for human blood, are impatient of delay. 
Each company of newcomers, as it pours into the circles, 
vociferates for fresh victims, that they may satiate their 
eyes. ' ' 

Thus duels and combats by groups and melees of the 
most terrible slaughter passed like whirlwinds under the 
frenzied gaze of the people. For hours, and even days, 
the arena of the Coliseum was reeking with the blood of its 
victims; its sickening vapors would ascend to the pure 
air of heaven as from an immense caldron of cruelty and 
pleasure. 

St. Augustine gives us, in the sixth book of his Confes- 
sions, a singularly vivid description of the excitement that 
prevailed among the spectators during these sanguinary 
struggles. 

"It happened," he says, "while his friend Alipius was 
studying the law at Rome, that he was met one day by some 
of his fellow-students as they were walking after dinner, 
who insisted upon taking him to the amphitheatre ; for it 
was one of the dismal holidays when Rome took its pleas- 
ure in these spectacles of human slaughter. 

" As Alipius had an extreme horror of this kind of cru- 
elty, he at first resisted with all his might ; but resorting to 
that sort of violence which is sometimes permitted among 
friends, they dragged him along, while he repeated, ' You 



28 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM, 

may drag my body along with you, and place me among 
you in the amphitheatre, but you cannot dispose of my 
mind nor of my eyes, which shall not, most assuredly, take 
any part in the spectacle. I shall be absent, therefore, 
although present in body, and thus I shall render myself 
superior to the violence you practise on me and to the 
passion by which you are possessed.' But he might as well 
have been silent; they drew him along, having a mind, 
perhaps, to see if he could be as good as his word. 

" At length they arrived, and placed themselves as best 
they could ; and while all the amphitheatre was in trans- 
ports with these barbarous pleasures, Alipius guarded his 
heart from taking any part in them, keeping his eyes shut. 
And would to God," continues St. Augustine, "he had 
also stopped his ears ; for having been struck by a great 
and universal shout, which was caused among the people 
by something extraordinary that had occurred in the com- 
bat, he was seized with curiosity, and merely wishing to 
ascertain what it could be — persuaded that no matter what 
it was, he would despise it — he opened his eyes, and in so 
doing inflicted on his own soul a wound more fatal than 
that which one of the gladiators had just received in his 
body; it was the occasion of a fall far more dangerous 
than that of the unfortunate gladiator whose overthrow had 
occasioned the inhuman shout which had tempted him to 
open his eyes. Cruelty entered into his heart; the blood, 
which at the same moment was pouring out on the arena, 
met his eyes, and, very far from turning them away, he 
kept them riveted to the spot, drinking in long draughts 
of fury without perceiving it, and allowing himself to be 
intoxicated with criminal pleasure. 

"He was no longer the same Alipius who had been 
dragged there by force ; he was a man of the same stamp 
as those who made up the crowd of the amphitheatre, and 






ENTERTAINMENTS OF THE COLISEUM. 29 

a fit companion for those who dragged him there. He 
looked on, he shouted, mingling his cries with theirs, fe- 
verish with excitement, and, like them, totally absorbed in 
the vicissitudes of the combat. In fine, he departed from 
the amphitheatre with such a passion for these sights that 
he could think of nothing else. Not only was he ready to 
return with those who had been obliged to use force with 
him in the first instance, but he was more infuriated about 
the gladiators than they, drawing others with him, and ever 
ready to lead the way to the amphitheatre." (Book vii. ch. 
viii.) 

So intense was the excitement of the people during these 
fights, that they seemed to lose all self-control ; from morn- 
ing till evening, careless of cold or heat, they gazed with 
mad excitement on the arena, and their minds were agi- 
tated with the fluctuating passions of hope and fear, like 
the ocean tossed by contrary winds. Nor was the demon 
of discord idle whilst the furies flapped their funeral wings 
over these bloody scenes. The spectators were divided 
into several parties. Sharp and bitter discussions concern- 
ing the rival merits of the combatants formed an inex- 
haustible source of broils and disputes ; and sometimes they 
became so excited as to pass from criticism and argument 
to blows, and even to deadly weapons, until the benches 
of the amphitheatre from end to end became the scene of 
sanguinary tumult and massacre. 

We have an account of one of those terrible scenes in the 
Circus Maximus, in which upwards of thirty thousand per- 
sons were killed or wounded. Something similar happened 
in the Coliseum on occasion of a scene of horrible cruelty. 
One of the Emperors obliged a celebrated gladiator to 
fight three others in succession. The tyrant Gessler, who 
made Tell split an apple with his arrow at a hundred paces 
on his son's head, was not more inhuman. The poor 
3* 



30 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

gladiator fought bravely, and slew the first two opponents, 
but, wearied and wounded, fell whilst fighting the third. 
The excitement of this scene drove the people to madness ; 
they turned on each other, and terrible bloodshed was the 
result. 

We will conclude this brief notice of the gladiatorial 
scenes of the Coliseum by quoting the beautiful and touch- 
ing lines of Lord Byron : 

" I see before me the gladiator lie ; 
He leans upon his hand, his manly brow 
Consents to death, but conquers agony, 
And his drooped head sinks gradually low, 
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow, 
From the red gash fall heavy, one by one, 
Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now 
The arena swims around him, he is gone, 
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch 
who won. 

He heard it, but he heeded not ; his eyes 
"Were with his heart, and that was far away ; 
He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize ; 
But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, 
There were his young barbarians all at play, 
There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, 
Butchered to make a Roman holiday. 
All this rushed with his blood ; shall he expire, 
And unavenged ? Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire." 

Childe Harold. 




CHAPTER IV. 



THE CHRISTIANS. 




UCH were the bloody and cruel amusements pre 
sented from time to time to the Romans. This 
kind of inhuman sport had a reign of more than 
a thousand years „and can be traced far back to 
the remotest antiquity. Long before the dawn of Christi- 
anity, and before a stone was laid in the foundations of 
the mighty Coliseum, the poets made them the subject of 
their verses, the orators colored their effusions with de- 
scriptions of these sanguinary combats ; the frescoes on the 
walls were scenes of bloodshed, and the dull marble was 
made to tell their horrors. The two grandest ruins that re- 
main of Ancient Rome are the monuments of its Paganism 
and its cruelty. The magnificence and splendor of the 
Pantheon and the Coliseum form a terrible contrast with 
the scenes that passed within them. When we lift the 
veil which time has flung over the past, and contemplate 
the Romans in their wealth, their power, and magnifi- 
cence, we cannot but be horrified as well as surprised at 
those dark and gloomy records of tyranny and cruelty 
which stain every page of their history. The people who 
revelled in these scenes of bloodshed were men as we are ; 
then, as now, the heart was capable of noble feelings. 

3 1 



32 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

There were in the Coliseum, witnessing its cruel games, 
senators who could sit with honor in the British Parlia- 
ment; poets who would return to their homes immediately 
after the games, and write on scented tablets thrilling ac- 
counts of those exciting scenes, with the same hand that 
had applauded an assassination. There were fathers of 
families, who would cry out vociferously that the wounded 
gladiator should be struck again, and his dying frame be 
hacked and cut to pieces by his triumphant opponent, and 
in the afternoon would nurse their children with all the 
tenderness of paternal love. Then there was the tender, 
loving, sympathizing nature of womanhood, blasted by the 
sight and thirst of blood ; the noble lady and the vestal 
virgin, clothed in white and crowned with flowers, became 
furies in the theatre, and turned down the jewelled thumb 
for the murder of some fallen victim ; yet one felt all the 
ennobling ties of a wife, a mother, and a friend, and the 
other pretended to cultivate the Christian virtue of chastity. 
Alas ! in this we see human nature without Christianity. 
They were the victims of Paganism, that terrible slavery 
in which the nations of the earth were held captive before 
the coming of the Liberator of mankind. We can easily 
cast a link of union between the impieties and horrid cruel- 
ties of the Pagan past and the heart-rending and inhuman 
scenes of those Pagan and ipfidel nations which are yet 
buried in the darkness of the shadow of death. We can 
pass in imagination from the carnage and bloodshed of the 
Coliseum, the merciless massacre of women and children 
and unarmed captives, whose cries for mercy were the 
music of a Roman triumph, to the inhuman customs of 
those nations who expose their infants on the banks of the 
mountain torrents, destroy their old men, and cast living 
victims under the wheels of the triumphant car of theii 
idols, or to the bivouac of the wild savages of Dahomey 



I 



THE CHRISTIANS. 33 

sitting in brutal glee around a blazing fire and consuming 
their meal of human flesh. 

f But a new era has dawned upon the earth. In the illu- 
mination of that creed which Rome vainly endeavored to 
crush in the Coliseum we read a solution to this terrible 
enigma of life. They knew nothing of the sublime moral- 
ity of Him who has said, ' ' By this shall all men know that 
you are my disciples, if you have love one for another." 
The dark cloud of primeval guilt hung over the world for 
four thousand years, and Paganism, Idolatry, and all their 
concomitant absurdities were the offspring of that first sin. 
But when the time decreed by God for the regeneration of 
man had come, the new state of things did not break on the 
world like the sunshine bursting from the cloud. It pleased 
Almighty God that His kingdom should fight its own way 
and win its own dynasty ; He sent forth His Apostles to the 
world to overcome it by the invisible arms of faith. They 
attacked and conquered it. For four centuries the battle 
raged ; Paganism had nothing but its^cruelties and its 
horrors to stem the invisible power of tne unarmed Apos- 
tles, and the powers of darkness quailed in the presence of 
the indestructible strength of the followers of Christ. But 
many a noble victim must fall before the victory is gained, 
and streams of nobler blood than that of beasts and gladia- 
tors must dye the arena of the Coliseum. 

But another species of amusement must be added to 
those already enumerated. About eight hundred years after 
the building of Rome, there appeared a new race of beings 
who were to furnish a fresh feast to the cruelty and de- 
pravity of the people. They were men who sought no 
arms to fight, and showed no fear to die. After witness- 
ing the courageous combats of the armed gladiators madly 
fighting for their lives, the strength and agility of the 
hunters, the pitiful looks and trembling limbs of the un- 

C 



34 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

armed wretches who were exposed to die without even a 
chance of self-defence, it was a strange and unusual sight 
to see men walking into the arena with a fearless step and 
joyful brow, their eyes raised towards heaven, where they 
seemed to contemplate brilliant scenes of glory, bravely 
and intrepidly announcing the religion of the crucified 
God. These were men who belonged to the detestable sect 
which had come from Judea ; they were the contemners of 
the gods of the Empire — they were Christians. Not the 
friendless captives from Thrace or Gaul, nor wretched 
slaves whose lives were the property of their masters, but 
some of the noblest families of the state, and some of them 
members of the imperial household itself. Instead of the 
brawny and stalwart frame of the hardy gladiator, it is the 
tender virgin in the bloom of girlhood that is now to face 
the fury of the lion. Triumphs of another kind will startle 
the enthusiasm of the crowded seats, and the wildest ani- 
mals of the forest and the desert will crouch at the feet of 
the martyrs of CJ^st. 





CHAPTER V. 




THE FIRST MARTYR OF THE COLISEUM. 

HE ruins of the burnt city were still smoking on 
the Palatine and Esquiline hills when Nero con- 
ceived the idea of satiating the rage of the people 
by the blood of the Christians. That monster, 
whose name is associated with everything cruel and impious, 
was the first Roman Emperor to decree a persecution against 
the unoffending servants of God. The edicts were issued ; 
the cry on every side was the extermination of Christianity. 
The whole Pagan world rose in arms against it. No 
sooner were the terrible decrees promulgated throughout 
the Empire, than the people seemed possessed with demons, 
for they rushed with inhuman fury against the innocent and 
defenceless followers of the Crucified. The frenzied re- 
solve to root out and exterminate the Christians began with 
Rome and diffused itself through every province and city 
of the Empire. Members of the same community, and 
even the same family, became the informers and the ex- 
ecutioners of each other. In these pages are recorded two 
or three instances where fathers have tried in vain, by every 
species of torture and punishment, to shake the constancy 
of their tender and innocent children. In every town and 
village unrestricted license was given to the magistrates to 
plunder, to imprison, to torture, and destroy the Chris- 

35 



36 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

tians; and these petty officers, in their turn, delegated 
their power to the most menial and cruel wretches in 'their 
pay. 

"It was moreover proclaimed," says a holy martyr 
quoted by St. Eusebius, " that no one should have any care 
or pity for us, but that all persons should so think of and 
behave themselves towards us as if we were no longer men." 

These horrors did not cease with the tyrants who com- 
menced them. For three hundred years the powers of hell 
continued this war against the Church with more or less 
fury, rising and falling like the swells of the ocean ; at one 
time pouring down with all the thunder and foam of the 
billows in the storm, then calm and tranquil as a lake. 

The great St. Basil, writing of the persecution of Diocle- 
tian, gives a general idea of what were the cruelties and 
horrors of those terrible times. 

" The houses of the Christians were wrecked and laid in 
ruins, their goods became the prey of rapine, their bodies 
of the ferocious lictors, who tore them like wild beasts, 
dragging their matrons by the hair along the streets, cal- 
lous alike to the claims of pity for the aged or of those still 
in tender years. The innocent were submitted to torments 
usually reserved only for the vilest criminals ; the dungeons 
were filled with the inmates of Christian homes which now 
lay desolate ; and the trackless deserts and the forest caves 
were crowded with fugitives, whose only crime was the 
worship of Jesus Christ. In these dark times the son be- 
trayed his father, the father impeached his own offspring, 
the servant sought his master's property by denouncing 
him, the brother sought the brother's blood, for none of 
the claims or ties of humanity seemed any longer to be 
recognized, so completely had all been blinded as if by a 
demoniacal possession. Moreover, the house of prayer 
was profaned by impious hands, the most holy altars were 



THE FIRST MARTYR OF THE COLISEUM. $? 

overturned ; nor was there any offering of the clean obla- 
tion nor of incense ; no place was left for the divine mys- 
teries, all was profound tribulation, a sable darkness that 
shut out all comfort; the sacerdotal colleges were dis- 
persed ; no synod or council could meet for fear of the 
slaughter that raged on every side ; but the demons cele- 
brated their orgies and polluted all things by the smoke and 
gore of their victims." 

The Catacombs are lasting memorials of these terrible 
times ; those gloomy caves and dark passages in the bowels 
of the earth are the most precious archives of the Church, 
for their rude slabs, with the palm and the crown, tell of 
nearly a million of martyrs. 

The Coliseum is another witness to the triumphs of the 
past. It sprung up amid the horrors of persecution; it 
became the battlefield where innocence and weakness 
fought with tyranny and guilt. The blood, the miracles, 
and the victories of the early Church have cast a hallowed 
reminiscence around this venerable ruin, that make us ap- 
proach it with a species of religious awe. Thousands of 
martyrs are supposed to have shed their blood in its arena, 
although certain records of only a few have come down to 
us. Among these martyrs there were persons of every 
sex and position of life ; there were princes of royal blood, 
bishops, matrons advanced in age, maidens in the blush of 
youth and innocence, and children of the most tender 
years. Their courage, their meekness, their triumph over 
pain and death, was the eloquence that planted the cross 
that now casts its shadow across the desolate arena. The 
Acts of the heroes of the Coliseum, such as are extant, form 
one of the most interesting and wonderful pages in the 
history of the early Church. They are beautiful, eloquent, 
and touching, and set in striking contrast the strength, 
sublimity, and magnificence of Christianity with the mean- 
4 



38 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ness, the weakness, and stupidity of infidelity; they are 
incontestable evidences of the divinity of the Church of 
God. Who was the first martyr of the Coliseum ? The 
answer to this question will involve the answer to another, 
equally important. Who was it that designed and built this 
stupendous masterpiece of architecture ? What great mind 
conceived this gigantic fabric, laid out all its proportions 
in their exquisite order and symmetry, raised arch on arch 
and tier upon tier, cut and hewed a mountain of travertine 
into the sublimest work of ancient art ? Does not all that 
is said of the splendid amphitheatre redound to the praise 
of some great man, from whose superior talent and skill it 
sprung into existence ? Who was he, that we may raise his 
effigy on the altar of genius, and offer him the incense of 
our adulation and praise ? 

The architect of the Coliseum needs not the tinsel of 
human praise; yet let lovers of art breathe his name with 
reverence, for he was a Christian and a martyr. 

It is a strange fact that for nearly seventeen centuries the 
architect of the Coliseum was unknown. Certainly a 
building of such magnitude, comprising so many details 
and measurements, must have been the work of a superior 
mind. Every building of note reflects honor on its architect ; 
the fame of the great builders of the monuments of the past 
is still bright on the pages of history, although the stupen- 
dous works of their genius have lqng since passed away. 

A learned historian of the last century, 1 writing in the 
Eternal City and under the shadow of the Coliseum itself, 
makes these beautiful remarks : "It is a thing worthy of 
reflection, that, notwithstanding the magnificence of this 
work, so excellent in its architecture, so admirable in its con- 
struction, and even judged by Martial to be more wonder- 
ful than all the wonders of the world, neither he nor any 

1 Marangoni. 



THE FIRST MARTYR OF THE COLISEUM. 39 

of the writers of the succeeding ages made mention of this 
great architect. ' ' 

Martial, as is well known, was a Roman poet, who flour- 
ished in the reigns of Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian. He 
extols with pompous eulogiums the memory of Rabirius, for 
his skill in erecting a large addition to the palace of the 
Caesars during the reign of Domitian. He says this archi- 
tect raised a palace that reached the skies, and reflected the 
glory of the stars ; that his genius had penetrated the dis- 
tant heavens, and drawn from the splendor of the celestial 
fabrics the magnificence and majesty of his design. "With 
how much more reason," continues the writer just quoted, 
" ought he not to immortalize the name and memory of the 
great architect of the Coliseum — a work far superior to the 
palace of the Palatine, and built by a man as celebrated, 
and as well known to Martial himself?" 

Martial did not make a mere casual and passing allusion 
to the Coliseum ; he constituted himself its panegyrist ; his 
best poems are written on the horrors of the amphitheatre ; 
yet, while he extols with bombastic ' praise the merits of 
the inferior architect who added a new wing to the golden 
house, he passes over in silence the name that should be 
written in letters of gold in his stanzas on the Coliseum. 
Is not this silence of Martial and of contemporary writers 
an enigma of history? 

Seventeen centuries had passed over- the imperishable 
walls of this stupendous monument of antiquity; tourists 
and strangers poured in from every point of the compass to 
gaze with wonder on the ruin, which in its very debris im- 
mortalized an unknown architect. In vain the lovers of 
the great past read over the ancient histories and records 
to find the name of this man ; they pored over the effaced 
inscriptions and broken slabs of marble that still clung to 
the crumbling walls, hoping to find some passing encomium 



40 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

in his praise, but eternal objivion would have shrouded his 
name had not an accidental discovery brought it to light. 

During some excavations that were made in the Cata- 
combs of St. Agnes, on the Nomentan way, a rude tomb 
was uncovered. It was inclosed by a marble slab bearing 
the crown and palm, and near it was the phial of blood, 
the unmistakable testimony of martyrdom. A rough in- 
scription declared the praises of Gaudentius, the architect 
of the Coliseum. 

Here is the explanation of the strange silence of Martial 
and his contemporary Pagan historians. Gaudentius was a 
Christian and a martyr ; he belonged to that sect that was 
hated and persecuted by all the power of the Empire ; pro- 
bably he was one of the first victims whose blood was shed 
in the arena of the amphitheatre. The Roman Emperor 
sought not only to annihilate Christianity, but to obliterate 
it from the memory of man ; no public act was permitted 
in favor of the Christians ; it was treason to harbor them, 
to extol them, or to imagine they were capable of anything 
great or noble. The sycophant poet who sought but the 
smiles of Caesar knew the theme that would please; he 
would not risk his life by expressing sympathy with the 
persecuted followers of the Cross. Thus Gaudentius passed 
away without a monument ; the timid friends who gathered 
together his sacred remains laid them in a martyr's tomb, 
in the gloomy crypts of the Catacombs ; and in the faint 
hope that posterity would one day recognize his genius 
and his talent, they rudely scratched on the marble slab 
that covered him, the verses which declare him to be the 
architect of the Coliseum. Nor is it surprising that the 
remains of Gaudentius, as well as the remains of hundreds 
of other noble martyrs, were laid silently, and apparently 
without honor, in the dark recesses of the Catacombs. At 
a time when all was terror and confusion; when the trem- 



THE FIRST MARTYR OF THE COLISEUM. 4 1 

bling survivors could only gather the remains of their mar- 
tyred friends by stealth and in the darkness of the night, 
there was no opportunity of recording their praises and 
their triumph in studied epitaphs or imperishable monu- 
ments. 

There are thousands of saints shining in the bright group 
clothed in white robes, and " following the Lamb whither- 
soever He goeth," unknown to the Church militant except 
in name. Yet in the records of the Catacombs we meet 
now and then a few short but touching verses to declare 
the praises of some particular martyr ; perhaps the rude 
composition of some surviving friend, chiselled on the 
hard stone by a delicate hand and traced under the dim 
light of an oil-lamp. Such are the verses on the tomb of 
Gaudentius : 



SIC PREMIA SERVAS VESPASIANE DIRE 
PREMIATVS ES MORTE GAVDENTI LETARE 
CIVITAS VBI GLORIE TVE AVTORI 
PROMISIT ISTE DAT KRISTVS OMNIA TIBI 
QVI ALIVM PARAVIT THEATRV IN CELO 



Here is a panegyric in a few words, but simple and 
sublime. It declares our hero to be the victim of gross 
ingratitude, and although his genius had contributed to the 
glory of the city, his reward was a cruel death. The Chris- 
tian who carved this epitaph seemed to console himself with 
the glory and appreciation given to his friend in the other 
world. "Caesar had promised three great rewards," he 
seems to say, ' ' but false and ungrateful was the Pagan ; 
He who is the great architect of the heavens, and whose 
promises fail not, has prepared for thee in reward of thy vir- 
tue a place in the everlasting theatre of the celestial city. ' ' 

At first sight these verses do not seem to possess all the 
importance we have attributed to them, but a moment's re- 
4* 



42 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

flection will prove them to be one of the simplest records 
of the past. There was no other theatre built in the time 
of Vespasian but the Coliseum ; it was the glory of the city, 
and is still so in its ruins. Vespasian did not persecute the 
Christians, yet there were martyrs in his reign ; the laws 
of Nero were unrepealed, and were still enforced with 
more or less violence in different parts of the Empire. 
We read of St. Apollinaris, Bishop of Ravenna, in the 
Roman martyrology under the 2 2d of July, "qui sub 
Vespasiano Csesare gloriosum martyrium consummavit." 
Eusebius, in his History of the Church (book iii. chap. 
15), as also Baronius (anno 74), assert that Vespasian raised' 
a terrible persecution against the Jews ; he put to death all 
who said they were descendants of David. Now among 
the Gentiles in those times Christians and Jews were con- 
sidered the same. Dion Cassius says of Domitian that he 
put to death those "qui in mores Judxorum transierant " 
(lib. 47), that is, those who became Christians. Super- 
ficial readers are inclined to doubt of the inference drawn 
from this epitaph. A thousand questions may be asked, 
and many objections raised ; but without entering into a 
tedious and perhaps uninteresting examination of the ques- 
tioi%, it will be sufficient to state that it is the received 
opinion of all modern antiquaries that this epitaph can 
refer only to the architect of the Coliseum. Among the 
authors who assert this opinion as beyond doubt are Arrin- 
ghi, Nibley, Rossi, Marangoni, and Mgr. Gerbet, &c. 

The slab which contains this inscription may be seen at 
present in the subterranean church of St. Martina in the 
Forum. Martina was one of the virgins exposed to the 
wild beasts in the Coliseum. The underground chapel is 
a gem of architecture, and is a lasting monument of the 
genius and munificence of Pietro da Cortona, who designed 
and built it himself. It is richly ornamented, and possesses 



THE FIRST MARTYR OF THE COLISEUM. 43 

many pieces of beautiful and rare marble. Among the 
ornaments which adorn its walls there is not one so inter- 
esting as the rude slab of Gaudentius. 

Of his life and the manner of his death nothing is known ; 
his history, his martyrdom, and his panegyric are all con- 
tained in this brief and obscure epitaph. The Church has 
emblazoned on her records, in brilliant letters, the names 
of those heroes whose talents or whose triumphs were the 
glory of the early ages, and among them may be recog- 
nized the architect of the greatest work of antiquity, the 
Christian and the martyr Gaudentius. 





CHAPTER VI. 



ST. IGNATIUS. 




FTER the glorious transfiguration of our Blessed 
Lord on Thabor, He retired with His disciples 
to Galilee. Having foretold His passion and 
death, and prepared them for the awful scenes 
that were to come to pass in a few days. He commenced 
His last and memorable journey to Jerusalem. His disci- 
ples followed Him at a short distance. On the road to Ca- 
pharnaum they entered into conversation with each other, 
and disputed among themselves which of them should be 
the greatest. Their minds were not yet illumined by the 
light of the Holy Spirit, and they were yet ignorant of the 
sublime virtues of Christian morality. 

But Jesus knew what was passing among them. When 
they arrived at Capharnaum He entered a house and made 
the disciples sit around Him, and He commenced to teach 
them those beautiful lessons of humility which are the 
foundations of all true greatness. With love and kind- 
ness beaming in His countenance He asked them, " What 
did you treat of in the way? But they held their peace." 
A ray of light had penetrated their hearts as the words 
of Jesus entered their ears, and a. blush was the acknowl- 
edgment of their pride. Near our Blessed Lord there 
stood a beautiful child — a briglvt-eyed little boy of four 

44 



ST. IGNATIUS. 45 

or five years of age, with golden hair falling in ringlets on 
his shoulders. He was the type of everything innocent 
and beautiful. Jesus called the child towards Him, and 
having impressed a kiss on his little forehead, He placed 
him before His disciples, and in the sweet tones of His 
heavenly voice said to them, "Amen I say to you, unless 
you be converted, and become as little children, you shall 
not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever, therefore, 
shall humble himself as this little child, he is the greater 
in the kingdom of heaven," (Matt, xviii. 3.) 

That child was Ignatius I 1 That infant that was embraced 
by Jesus Christ, and proposed' in its innocence as a model 
of everything that was truly great, was in after years the 
great Bishop of Antioch, who was devoured by the wild 
beasts in the Coliseum. 

We know nothing of the early life of St. Ignatius. He 
appears first on the page of history as the Bishop of An- 
tioch. St. Peter had first established his see in this city, 
which was at that time one of the largest in the Roman 
Empire, and here ruled the infant Church of Christ for six 
years. In the year 44 he came to Rome. In the very 
heart and centre of Paganism he erected the indestructible 
throne of the Papacy, which is to last until the end of time. 
St. Evodius succeeded him in the see of Antioch, and after 
him came Ignatius. Our Saint was a disciple of the glo- 
rious Apostle himself and of St. John. He had learned 
from these able masters the sublime science of the love of 
God, which made him one of the pillars and ornaments 
of the early Church. After the apostles themselves, he was 

1 This circumstance, although mentioned by some ancient writers, 
has no historical confirmation beyond a constant and pious tradition. 
We do not give it as a certainty, but have introduced it as an interest- 
ing introduction to the Acts of this great martyr, which are undoubtedly 
genuine. 



46 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

one of the most remarkable men in the Church ; his con- 
temporary and the fathers who lived in the three succeed- 
ing centuries mention his name with the greatest reverence. 
St. Polycarp and St. Chrysostom have made him the subject 
of their most eloquent panegyrics. After a life of more than 
fifty years in the episcopate of Antioch, the Almighty was 
pleased to call him to his crown, by a death that should be 
a glory and a model to the Church. The history of his la- 
bors and his virtues is not written, but all the particulars 
of his death were recorded by eye-witnesses, and distributed 
through the various churches ; hence his Acts are the most 
authentic in the history of the past. The original docu- 
ment, written in Greek, is still preserved, and was published 
by Ruinart, in Paris, in 1690. 

The scene of his martyrdom opens, according to the 
best authority, in the year of our Lord 107. Trajan held 
the .sceptre of the Caesars, and St. Evaristus sat in the chair 
of Peter. The storm that attacked the Church during the 
reign of Domitian was subsiding. Historians tell us that 
Trajan did not naturally love bloodshed, and had a nobler 
sentiment of humanity than any Emperor who had pre- 
ceded him, but he was a coward and a slave to public 
opinion. He stifled his own feelings to pander to the 
brutal tastes of the mob ; to gain popularity, and under 
pretence of devotion to the gods of the Empire, he con- 
tinued from time to time the horrible scenes of persecution 
against the unoffending Christians. St. Ignatius was one 
of his victims. 

In the eighth year of his reign Trajan had gained a 
glorious victory over Decebalus, the king of the Dacians, 
and annexed all his territory to the Roman Empire. The 
following year he set out on an expedition against the Par- 
thians" and Armenians, the allies of the conquered Dacians. 
Having arrived at Antioch, he threatened with the severest 



ST. IGNATIUS. 47 

penalties all who would not sacrifice to the gods. The 
labors and preaching of the venerable bishop of this city- 
were so crowned with success, that the Church was flourish- 
ing, and was no longer a despicable community of a few 
individuals. The Pagans saw the Christians increase 
around them with an evil eye, and availed themselves of 
the presence of the Emperor to call for their extermination. 
"The magnanimous champion of Jesus Christ," says the 
Acts of the Saint, "fearful lest his Church should become 
a scene of horrible slaughter, voluntarily gave himself into 
their hands; that they might satiate their fury on him, but 
save his flock." He was immediately brought before the 
Emperor and accused of being the head and promoter of 
Christianity in the city. Trajan, assuming a haughty and 
contemptuous tone, addressed the aged bishop, who stood 
fearlessly before him, in these words : ' ' Who are you, im- 
pious and evil spirit, that dare not only to transgress our 
orders, but exert yourself to bring others with you to a 
miserable end?" The Saint meekly replied : "Impious 
and wicked spirits belong to Hell, they have nothing to do 
with the Christians ; you cannot call me impious and wicked 
whilst I carry the true God in my heart ; the demons trem- 
ble at the very presence of the servants of the God whom 
we adore. I possess Jesus Christ, who is the universal and 
celestial Lord, and King of all things ; by His grace I can 
trample on all the power of the infernal spirits." 

"And who is he," asked Trajan, "who possesses and 
carries his God in his heart ? ' ' 

" Every one that believes in Jesus Christ and serves Him 
faithfully," replied the Saint. 

"Do you not believe then that we also carry our im- 
mortal gods within us? Do you not see how they favor 
us with their aid, and what great and glorious victories we 
have gained over our enemies ? ' ' 



48 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

" You are deceived," replied Ignatius, majestically, "in 
calling those things that you adore gods ; they are accursed 
spirits, they are the demons of Hell ; the true God is only 
one, and it was He that created the heavens, the earth, and 
the sea, and everything that exists ; and one only is Jesus 
Christ, the only-begotten Son of the most High, and Him 
I humbly pray to bring me one day to the possession of His 
everlasting kingdom." 

"Who is this Jesus Christ thou hast named? is it He 
who was put to death by Pontius Pilate ? ' ' 

"It is of Him I speak," replied Ignatius; "He who 
was nailed to the cross, who destroyed my sin and the in- 
ventor of sin, and by His death places under the feet of 
those who devoutly carry Him in their hearts all the power 
and malice of the demon." 

"Do you then carry within you this crucified Jesus?" 
asked the Emperor, with a sarcastic smile. 

"It is so," answered Ignatius ; "for He tells us in His 
holy Scripture, ' / will dwell in . them, and walk among 
them,' " (2 Cor. vi. 16.) 

For a moment Trajan was silent, conflicting thoughts 
passing through his mind. He was urged by curiosity to 
hear more of the religion of the Christians, and struck by 
the venerable appearance of the servant of Christ, he could 
have almost sent him back to his people with a slight repri- 
mand ; but the demon of pride and infidelity sprang up in 
his heart, and reminded him that any partiality towards 
the hated sect would be a sign of weakness, a loss of popu- 
larity, and a want of piety to the gods. Further hesitation 
would betray the false zeal of his hypocritical heart, and 
standing on his throne he pronounced this sentence against 
the holy bishop: "We command that Ignatius, who says 
he carries within him the crucified Jesus, be brought in 
chains to the great city of Rome, and amid the games of 



ST. IGNATIUS. 49 

the amphitheatre, as a pleasing spectacle to the Roman 
people, be made the food of wild beasts." 

When Ignatius heard this sentence he threw himself on 
his knees, and stretching his arms towards heaven, cried 
out in an ecstasy of joy, " O Lord, I thank Thee that Thou 
hast deigned to honor me with the most precious sign of 
Th) charity, and hast permitted that I should be chained 
for Thy love as was the Apostle Paul." He remained in 
the same position, his arms lifted up, his eyes fixed on 
heaven ; he seemed to catch a glimpse of those ineffable 
joys he so ardently desired, and which he was soon to 
enjoy. He was startled from his reverie by the rough 
grasp of one of the soldiers, who seized his feeble hands 
and placed them in the manacles of a criminal ; his crime 
was, "he carried within him Jesus crucified." He made 
no resistance ; but full of joy, and praying for his poor 
flock, he moved away with his guards to one of the cells 
of the public prisons, to wait his departure for Rome. A 
crowd of people had gathered around the court-yard of the 
governor's palace, in which the Emperor resided ; when 
they saw the venerable bishop chained and condemned to 
death, a murmur of pity broke from every lip; among 
them there was many a wet eye and a suppressed sob ; they 
were Christians who saw their beloved bishop and father 
rudely dragged away to an ignominious death. 

St. John Chrysostom considers with much eloquence and 
piety why Ignatius was taken to Rome for his execution. 
The martyrs were generally ordered from the tribunal to 
the scaffold, and even more frequently became the victims 
of the impotent rage of the defeated tyrants, and were tor- 
tured and put to death in the very court of justice itself. 
But Trajan was not of a brutal disposition, and would have 
suspended the persecution against the Christians, were it not 
that he feared the indignation of the people. When he 
5 D 



50 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ordered the aged bishop to be taken to Rome and exposed 
to the beasts before tens of thousands of spectators, it was 
that the whole Empire might praise his zeal in the service 
of the gods, and that the people might be deterred from 
embracing Christianity by witnessing the terrible fate of 
its leaders. But divine Providence, which can draw good 
from the evil actions of men, destined this journey for the 
edification of the Church and for the salvation of innumer- 
able souls. The constancy, the piety and eloquence of the 
martyr on his way to death, scattered far and wide the sub- 
lime truths of the divine law ; he poured out from his own 
heart the fire of charity which burned within it ; the Chris- 
tians were animated to new fervor wherever he went, and 
many infidels recognized in the venerable prelate a reflec- 
tion of the divinity of the gospel he preached, and abjuring 
the false gods of Paganism, became children of the Church. 

During his journey to Rome his happiness and peace 
of mind were beyond description. Every day his desire 
for martyrdom increased. He was taken from Antioch to 
Seleucia, and there embarked for Smyrna. They landed 
safely after a long and painful voyage, and St. Ignatius en- 
deavored immediately on landing to have an interview 
with the holy Bishop St. Polycarp, who was his fellow-dis- 
ciple under the great Apostle St. John. By the exertions 
of the Christians who accompanied him, who probably 
bribed his guards, this privilege was given him, and he 
spent some days with St. Polycarp. 

The student of ecclesiastical history will find perhaps, at 
first sight, some difficulty in bringing into the same page 
the remarkable names of John, Ignatius, and Polycarp. 
St. John was the beloved disciple who leaned on the bosom 
of our Blessed Lord; St. Ignatius was martyred in 107, 
and St. Polycarp is generally supposed to have suffered 
martyrdom towards the end of the year 169. St. Ignatius 



ST. IGNATIUS. 51 

was bishop before St. Polycarp was born, yet they were 
both disciples of St. John. These facts are easily recon- 
ciled. St. John lived to the age of one hundred and one 
years. He consecrated Polycarp Bishop of Smyrna about 
the year 90 of our Lord, before he had the mysterious 
visions of the Apocalypse in the Isle of Patmos. He dwelt 
for some years in Asia Minor, and must have been fre- 
quently in the city of Antioch whilst Ignatius was its bishop. 
Moreover, in the first century, those who could consult 
with the apostles by letters, or by interview, on doubts that 
would arise connected with the discipline or teaching of the 
Church, were called disciples of the apostles. In either 
of those cases, then, Ignatius and Polycarp were fellow- 
disciples of St. John. 

From the abode of St. Polycarp St. Ignatius wrote some 
beautiful and sublime letters, begging the Christians in the 
different churches, especially at Rome, not to prevent his 
martyrdom. Not that the Christians were accustomed to 
rescue the martyrs from the hands of the tyrants by physi- 
cal force, but Ignatius well knew they had weapons more 
powerful than armies set in battle-array ; it was the invisi- 
ble, the irresistible, the all-powerful weapon of prayer. 
By this the rage of the tyrant was baffled, and death itself 
defied ; and Ignatius besought them with all the fervor of 
his heart to let him have his crown, and pass away now in 
his old age from a weary life of trial to the ineffable bliss 
of the celestial kingdom. The Christians consented, and 
the martyr won his crown. "I have at length gained from 
Almighty God," he writes in his letter to the Romans, 
"that which I have so long desired, to come and see you 
who are the true servants of God; and more than this I 
hope to gain from His mercy. I come to you chained for 
the love of Jesus Christ, and so chained, I hope to arrive 
soon in your city to receive youf embraces and my long 



52 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

sighed-for end. Things have commenced auspiciously, and 
I sincerely pray to the Lord to remove every impediment 
or delay to the glorious end He seems to have destined for 
me ; but alas ! a terrible fear damps my hopes, and you, 
my brethren, are the cause of this fear — I fear your charity 
will stand between me and my crown. If you wish to pre- 
vent me from receiving the crown of martyrdom, it will be 
easy for you to do it, but sad and painful to me will be that 
kindness which will deprive me of an opportunity of thus 
laying down my life which may never come again. In per- 
mitting me to go quietly to my end you aid me in that 
which is most dear to me ; but if, in your misguided 
charity, you wish to save me, you will stand like the most 
cruel enemies in the very portals of heaven, and fling me 
back into the deep and tempestuous sea of life, to be tossed 
again on its billows of sorrow. If you wish to love me with 
true charity you will allow me to mount the altar of sacri- 
fice, you yourselves will gather around and sing hymns of 
thanksgiving to the Eternal Father, and to Jesus Christ, 
that He has brought, from the East to the West, from 
Smyrna to Rome, the Bishop of Antioch, to make him the 
confessor of His great name, His victim and His holocaust. 
Oh, how happy and blessed our lot, to die to this world, 
to live eternally in God ! ' ' 

In another portion of his letter he uses these sublime and 
touching words : — "Let me be the food of the beasts ; let 
me come thus to the possession of God. I am the wheat 
of Jesus Christ ; I must therefore be ground and broken by 
the teeth of wild beasts, that I may become His pure and 
spotless bread. Caress those animals that will soon be my 
honored sepulchre. I desire and pray God that they may 
not leave anything of me on the earth, that when my spirit 
will have flown to eternal rest, my body may not be an in- 
convenience to any one. Then shall I be a true disciple 



ST. IGNATIUS. 53 

of Jesus Christ, when the world can see no more of me. 
Oh, pray to Him that this may be the case, that I may be 
consumed by the beasts, and be the victim of His love. 
It is to solicit your aid that I write to you. I do not send 
you commandments and precepts as St. Peter and St. Paul. 
They were apostles, I am but a miserable criminal ; they 
were free, I am a worthless slave ; but if I suffer martyr- 
dom I shall be free. Now that I am in the chains for 
Jesus Christ, I recognize the vanity of all worldly things, 
and have learned to despise them. In the journey I have 
made from Syria up to this, by land and by sea, by day 
and by night, I have fought and still fight with ten fierce 
leopards who press on me from every side ; they are the 
ten soldiers who keep me in chains and are my guard, who 
even become worse and more cruel from the benefits they 
receive ; but these things are to me lessons of the sublimest 
character, yet I am not perfect." (See Acta Sincera, Rui- 
nant, vol. i. etc.) 

Whilst the letters of St. Ignatius excite the deepest sen- 
timents of devotion in the heart, they bring tears of pity 
to our eyes. That he suffered much in his long and tedious 
journey to Rome, there can be no doubt. That journey 
must have lasted more than six months; his letter from 
Smyrna is dated the 24th of August, and he was not mar- 
tyred until the 20th of December. Having arrived in 
Greece, they crossed overland through Macedonia, and set 
sail again from Epiclamus for Italy. They crossed the 
Adriatic and came round the southern shores of Italy to 
the western coast. Passing the city of Pozzuoli, the Saint 
was very anxious to land there in order to go to Rome by 
the same road that St. Paul had passed over many years 
before. But a fair wind sprung up and all sail was made 
for the port of Ostia. " For a day and a night," say the 
Christians who accompanied St. Ignatius and wrote the 
5* 



54 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Acts of his martyrdom, "we had this favorable wind. To 
us, indeed, it was a source of great sorrow, because it would 
oblige us sooner to separate from the company of this holy 
man ; but to him it caused greater joy and happiness, as it 
brought him nearer his wished-for end." They arrived at 
Ostia just before the termination of the annual 'games of 
the kalends of January. These games were called sigillaria, 
and were the most popular and best attended. The sol- 
diers, wishing to arrive in Rome before their termination, 
hurried on from Ostia without any delay. Many of the 
Christians heard of his arrival, and went to meet him some- 
where near the spot where now stands the superb Church of 
St. Paul. He was hailed with mingled sentiments of joy 
and sorrow ; some were delighted to see the venerable con- 
fessor of the Church and receive his last blessing, whilst 
others wept aloud that so great a man was to be taken from 
them by an ignominious death. He consoled them by the 
joy of his own heart, and begged of them again not to pre- 
vent his sacrifice by their prayers. Having arrived near 
the gates, they all fell on their knees and received his last 
solemn benediction. 

It was the morning of the 20th of December, a.d. 107. 
The sun had already risen high in the heavens, and was 
pouring its golden flood of splendor over the city. The 
body of soldiers, and the aged bishop in chains, entered 
that gate through which had often rolled the stream of tri- 
umph, and through which had been dragged many a poor 
captive from the East, to be slaughtered on the Capitol as 
the climax to the glory of barbarian triumph. Ignatius ha4 
longed from his childhood to see the great metropolis of 
the Empire, and now it burst on him with dazzling splen- 
dor ; it was a forest of temples and tombs and mansions, 
of snowy whiteness that seemed imperishable. But his eyes 
were dimmed with tears ; his heart was crushed with sorrow 



ST. IGNATIUS. 55 

at the awful darkness that brooded over the mighty city ; 
the splendor and magnificence of its monuments of marble 
and gold were but the decorations of a mighty tomb. With 
his arms folded on his breast, he prayed that the sun of eter- 
nal justice might one day rise over that benighted city ; that 
the blood of so many martyrs spilt on its soil might fructify 
into saints, the fruit of that blood which was not shed in 
vain on Calvary. While Ignatius was rapt in prayer, a 
short turn in the road brought them in sight of the mighty 
Coliseum, the gorgeous remnant of the gilded palace of 
Nero, which crowned the Palatine, and in the distance the 
lofty temples of the Capitol ; and at the same moment they 
heard the thunder of some thousands of voices, mingled 
with the roar of lions and wild beasts. Some gladiator 
had fallen in the amphitheatre, and the brutal populace 
were cheering the fatal stroke that felled him ; the animals 
were startled in their dungeons, and the earth seemed to 
tremble under the horrible chorus of men and beasts. A 
few moments and Ignatius had arrived under the massive 
walls of the Coliseum. But let us go before him and take 
our seat on one of its benches to witness the terrible scenes 
that are about to follow. 

We have but cast one glance around the great amphi- 
theatre, and it would take volumes to describe all we see. 
Immensity and art, beauty and comfort, mingle with the 
rays of light that bring the first impressions — the motley 
thousands that fill every available seat, the rainbow of 
colors, softened by the purple awning, and enriched by 
the sparkling mail of the soldiers, and everything that gold 
and silver can lend to dazzle the eye. The Emperor's 
throne is on a raised dais, with crimson canopy, and is gor- 
geously conspicuous. He himself is away in the hardships 
of the camp; but his place is filled by the prefect of the 
city, a worthless wretch, whose god is the will of his master. 



$6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Around are the editors of the games, the Arval brothers, 
and the Vestal Virgins, and in the first cycle of the benches 
all the wealth and grandeur of the city ; the order above 
them are dressed in beautiful white mantles; they are the 
equestrians. Then the immense platform, or gallery of the 
people, among whom are wooden benches for the women, 
obliged, by law, to be alone and removed at a distance 
through modesty from the scenes of nakedness arid cruelty 
that pass in the arena. Among the people there were envoys 
from every country the Roman eagle flew over, and in every 
variety of color and costume. There were the hardy race 
from the icy north, with snow-white features and brown 
locks, side by side with the swarthy Arab and curly-headed 
Ethiopian ; there is the inhabitant from the depths of Egypt, 
who drinks water from the cataracts of the Nile, beside 
the Sarmatian, who slakes his thirst with the blood of his 
horses. 

" Quse tarn seposita est, quse gens tarn barbara, Caesar, 
Ex qua spectator non sit in urbe tua ! " — Martial. 

The confusion of the voices is like the murmur of the 
mighty deep. It would seem as if the sovereignty of the 
people, banished from the Forum, had taken refuge in the 
amphitheatre, and vindicated with deafening shouts its 
liberty to insult and abuse. But in vain do we imagine 
ourselves beings of the past, to paint the scenes of the 
Coliseum in the days of its glory ! We have nothing in the 
range of our experience to compare to its 100,000 specta- 
tors gloating on scenes of bloodshed and murder. 

A rumor has passed through them that one of the heads 
of the Christians has been brought from Syria and con- 
demned by orders of the Emperor to be exposed to the 
beasts ; a wild frenzy starts from bench to bench, -and the 
whole amphitheatre rises and sends forth a loud and uni- 
versal shout for the Christians to be cast to the lions. The 



ST. IGNATIUS. 57 

loudest applause of our greatest theatres is but the gentle 
zephyr of a breeze compared to the yells of fiendish rage 
with which the Romans call for the extermination of the 
followers of the crucified Galilean ; like the thunder of the 
Alpine avalanche echoing through the hills, the mighty 
waves of human voices roll through the marble palaces and 
monuments of that city which was, in the grand designs of 
Providence, to become the very heart and centre of Chris- 
tianity itself. 

Suddenly a dead calm reigns over the living mass, every 
eye is fixed on the eastern gate ; the soldiers are leading a 
feeble old man into the arena, his silvery locks have been 
whitened with the snows of over a hundred winters ; his 
gait is firm, his aspect cheerful ; never was a more vener- 
able victim dragged across the sand of that blood-stained 
arena. He is conducted to the foot of the imperial gallery, 
and the president having heard of his long journey from 
the East, and struck with his venerable appearance and age, 
seemed to feel a sentiment of pity, and addressed him in 
these words: "I wonder you are still alive after all the 
hunger and sufferings you have already endured ; now, at 
least consent to offer sacrifice to the gods, that you may be 
delivered from the dreadful death that threatens you, and 
save us from the sorrow of having to condemn you." Igna- 
tius, drawing himself up with majesty, and casting a look 
of scorn on the representative of the Emperor, said : 

" By your bland words you wish to deceive and destroy 
me. Know that this mortal life has no attraction for me ; 
I wish to go to Jesus, who is the bread of immortality and 
the drink of eternal life ; I live entirely for Him, and my 
soul yearns for Him. I despise all your torments, and I 
cast at your feet your proffered liberty. ' ' 

The president, enraged at the bold language of the Saint, 
said, in a haughty tone, " Since this old man is so proud 



58 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and contemptuous, let him be bound, and let loose two 
lions to devour him." Ignatius smiled with joy. Having 
made an act of thanksgiving in his heart and breathed an 
ejaculation for strength, he addressed the assembly in these 
words : " Romans who witness my death, do not think I 
am condemned on account of any crime or bad action ; it 
is permitted that I may come to God, whom I desire with 
an insatiable desire ; I am His corn, and must be ground 
under the teeth of beasts to become for Him a pure and 
white bread." * Having said this, he fell on his knees and 
crossed his arms on his breast, and with eyes raised to 
heaven he waited calmly and resignedly the moment that 
should set him free from the troubles of life and send his 
soul on its flight to eternity. Another moment, and the 
small gates of the subterranean passages are opened and 
two lions bound into the arena. A terrible silence reigns 
through the amphitheatre, — they advance, — but enough, 
let the imagination fill up the harrowing details. The 
martyr is gone to his crown. We can but transcribe the 
brief, touching words of his Acts, — " his prayer was heard, 
the lions left nothing but the harder bones of his body." 

Night has crept over the city, and the Coliseum is as 
silent as the tomb. By the faint light of the moon we see 
three men stealing cautiously under the shadow of the 
mighty arches ; they move hurriedly across the arena. 
Near the centre, and on the side of the Emperor's seat, they 
go on their knees, and spreading a white napkin, they put 
into it some sand stained with blood and some bones ; they 
take them away with them and disappear in the darkness 
of the night. They are the Christians Carus, Philon, and 
Agathophus, who have accompanied Ignatius from An- 
tioch, and are securing the relics of their beloved bishop. 

1 These words were used by him in one of his letters, but according 
to his Acts they were used a second time by the Saint in the Coliseum 
itself. 



57 1 . IGNATIUS. 59 

Near the Coliseum there was a house much venerated 
and frequented by the Christians. It was the house of 
Clement, one of the Flavian family, a disciple of St. Peter, 
and his third successor. Here they bring the relics of the 
martyr, and according to the custom, they made a tempo- 
rary altar in one of the most spacious rooms, and left the 
sacred deposit exposed the whole night amid burning 
torches. The Christians, many of whom were present at 
his martyrdom in the amphitheatre, gathered from every 
side of the' city and passed the night in prayer. During 
the night the Saint appeared to them. "A gentle sleep 
seemed to steal over us," say the above-named Christians, 
who wrote his Acts, " and suddenly we saw the holy mar- 
tyr, who lovingly embraced us ; he seemed to be praying 
for us, and was covered with sweat as if he had just come 
from a great battle, and then he passed into the glory of 
the Lord, where he will rest for ever. When we saw this 
consoling vision, our joy was ineffable, and having awak- 
ened, we spoke over the vision which we all saw, and gave 
thanks without end to God, the great Giver of all good 
gifts, who brought to eternal happiness the glorious martyr 
Ignatius," (Ruinart, vol. i. chap. 10, &c.) 

His relics were brought from the house of Clement to 
Antioch, and were placed in a beautiful shrine outside the 
Porta Daphnitica ; but in the arrangements of Providence 
they were brought back again to Rome, and laid in pre- 
cisely the same spot where they were venerated by the Ro- 
mans the night after his martyrdom. When Antioch fell 
into the power of the Saracens, under Heraclius, the Chris- 
tians brought some of their most precious treasures to 
Rome, and among them the relics of St. Ignatius. A few 
years past, the learned and enterprising prior of the Irish 
Dominican Convent, now in care of the Church of St. 
Clement in Rome, was making excavations beneath the 
more modern church, probably of the twelfth century, and 



60 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

discovered not only the original basilica of the fourth cen- 
tury, but also the relics of St. Ignatius. They were carried 
in a gorgeous procession from the obscure sepulchre around 
the arena of the Coliseum, where seventeen centuries be- 
fore he had suffered, and were reposited under the high 
altar of the Basilica. There is a tradition, mentioned by 
Socrates in his Ecclesiastical History, that it was St. Igna- 
tius who first introduced the custom of alternating the 
Psalms in choir ; — it is said he had a vision in which he 
saw the angels thus singing the praises of God, and that he 
introduced it into the Church ; but the tradition seems not 
to have sufficient historic authority. 

Although St. Ignatius is the first mentioned in history to 
have suffered in the Coliseum, yet we have every reason to 
believe there were many both before and after his time 
that were exposed to wild beasts in the same place, of 
whom no records have reached us. The Coliseum was at 
the time of his death twenty-seven years in use ; the perse- 
cution of the Christians was raging with more or less violence 
during this time, and we have records of Christians having 
been exposed to the wild beasts in other amphitheatres of 
the empire. We read of a St. Tecla under Nero, exposed 
in the amphitheatre of Lycaonia. She is supposed to have 
been the first female martyr. Accilio Glabrione, who was 
consul under Domitian (a. d. 93), had to fight with a lion 
in the amphitheatre of Albano. The servant of God 
bravely killed the lion, but was afterwards martyred by the 
tyrant in Rome. Although the authenticated list of those * 
who suffered in the Coliseum of Rome is small, yet we have 
every reason to presume that thousands were sent to heaven 
of whom we have no record. The last and terrible day 
which will unveil for man the past and the future, will find 
among the peerless choirs of martyrs many a triumphant soul 
who fought in the arena of the Coliseum, whose names we have 
not been able to honor in the brief sketches of these pages. 




CHAPTER VII. 

THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 




EFORE introducing to our reader the extraordi- 
nary records that have come down to us regard- 
ing the great St. Eustachius and his martyred 
family, it may be well to contemplate for a 
moment a grand and consoling feature of triumph which 
Almighty God vouchsafed to His servants in the days of 
persecution. Although hundreds of martyrs have gone to 
heaven from the arena of the Coliseum, yet few have been 
killed by the wild beasts. This strange fact is a beam of 
sunshine amid all its horrors of cruelty and bloodshed. 
He who knew how to change the ferocious nature of those 
animals which prowl through their native mountains and 
deserts in search of food, so that they became the protectors 
and even companions of His hermits and solitaries, made 
them (instead of being the instruments of the most awful 
death) the defenders of the chastity of His virgins, and 
the witnesses of the sanctity of His saints. The great 
Creator of all things intended the dumb animal to be the 
servant of man, and, with a few exceptions, He refused to 
allow it to be the executioner of the innocent. One of the 
most consoling pages in the history of these terrible times 
is the oft-repeated miracle of Daniel in the lion's den ; not, 
however, in the silence and darkness of the gloomy cavern 
6 61 



62 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

into which the youthful prophet was cast, but under the 
noon-day sun, in the great amphitheatre of the capital of 
the world, and before 100,000 spectators. Miracles have 
been destined by God to be the handmaids of truth and 
the medium of conviction. In the visible interposition of 
His power in preserving His servants from the fury of the 
beasts in the Coliseum, He presented to the Pagans of 
Rome an incontestable proof of the divinity of Christianity, 
and a mercy they knew not how to appreciate. If the 
old walls of the Coliseum could speak, they would tell us 
some consoling scenes of the triumph of the martyrs and 
their wonderful preservation. St. Eusebius, who was eye- 
witness to some of those terrible scenes, describes with 
eloquence and feeling how the furious wild beasts were un- 
able to harm the Christians, and would turn on the Pagans 
with destructive rage. "Sometimes," he says, "they 
rushed on the naked and defenceless champions of Christ, 
but checked as if by some divine power, they returned to 
their dens. This happened repeatedly, and excited the 
wonder of the spectators ; at their demand, the first wild 
beast having been abashed, a second and a third were sent 
against the same martyr, but to no effect. 

"You would have been filled with admiration," he con- 
tinues, "at the steadfast intrepidity of those holy cham- 
pions, and at the immovable fortitude displayed by persons 
of the most tender years. You might have seen a youth 
who had not yet completed his twentieth year, standing mo- 
tionless in the midst of the arena with his hands stretched 
forth in the form of a cross, as he prayed with fervor to 
God, and not shrinking from the spot in which he stood, 
even when the bears and leopards, breathing forth rage 
and death, almost touched his very flesh with their jaws. 
Again, you might have seen others thrown before an en- 
raged bull, which attacked the Pagans who came near him, 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMIL Y. 6$ 

tossing them with his horns into the air, and leaving them 
to be taken away half dead ; but when with rage and bel- 
lowing it rushed upon the martyrs, he could not approach 
them, but stamping on the ground with its feet, tossing its 
horns to and fro, and breathing forth rage and madness, 
by reason of its being irritated by red-hot goads, the in- 
furiated animal was, in despite of all, held back by an in- 
visible hand. Other wild animals having been tried to no 
purpose, the Christians were at last put to death by the 
sword, and their relics, instead of being interred, were con- 
signed to the surges of the deep." (Eccles. Hist, book viii.) 
The scenes described by Eusebius were frequent all over 
the Empire. Wherever the name of Christian was found 
the persecution raged. It would seem that Almighty God 
adopted this means to give His infant Church publicity and 
a sign of the stamp of divinity. Hence in His mercy and 
goodness He made the persecutions the fruitful harvest of 
souls. Baronius mentions (An. 307) that in the persecu- 
tion of Diocletian, when the slain were counted by thou- 
sands daily, the holy Pope Marcellus had to appoint 
twenty-five new parishes in the city, to baptize and instruct 
the people who multiplied beneath the sword. The hid- 
eous and execrable character of the barbarities to which the 
Christians were subjected, with a view not only to force 
them to apostatize, but to deter others from embracing the 
proscribed belief, had the very contrary effect. As to the 
martyrs, persons of both sexes, and of the tenderest and 
most infirm age, not only bore their sufferings with super- 
human fortitude, but hailed them with joy, as tending to 
the greater glory of God and the conversion of the Pagans. 
Their very persecutors were forced to applaud the heroism 
of those whom they so bitterly hated, and to feel disgusted 
and afflicted at the atrocities they used before to be so 
vociferous in demanding. 



64 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

I cannot refrain here from introducing a scene from the 
Acts of three martyrs of Tarsus, given in the Annals of 
Baronius, under the year 290. Although they did not 
suffer in the Coliseum at Rome, yet, as their martyrdom 
took place in another amphitheatre of the Empire, the 
records of their death serve as a sample of what generally 
happened in those days of horror. These martyrs, Tharasius, 
Probus, and Andronicus, had been tortured in a most cruel 
manner at Tarsus in Cilicia ; they were conveyed thence 
to Mopsueste, and were again submitted to the most hor- 
rible barbarities, and a third time they were tormented at 
Anazobus; so that being covered all over with wounds, 
and their bones being broken and wrenched from their 
sockets, when the governor Maximus wished to have them 
finally exposed in the amphitheatre to the wild beasts, it 
became necessary for the soldiers to press men from the 
streets in order to carry thither their almost lifeless bodies. 

"When we beheld this," say the three devout Chris- 
tians who wrote the Acts and interred the relics of the 
martyrs, "we turned away our faces and wept; but when 
their mangled frames were cast down from the men's 
shoulders on the arena, all the spectators were horrified at 
the sight, and began to murmur at the president for this 
order, and many of them rose up and left the theatre, ex- 
pressing their dislike of this ferocious cruelty ; on which 
Maximus told his guards, who were near him, to take down 
the names of all who acted thus, that they might be after- 
wards brought to an account. He then commanded the 
wild beasts to be let loose on the martyrs, and when they 
would not touch them, "he ordered the keepers to be 
scourged. A bear was then let out which had devoured 
three men that day ; but crouching at the feet of Androni- 
cus, it began gently to lick his wounds, and continued 
thus mildly to demean itself, notwithstanding that the 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL Y. 65 

martyr plucked its hair and tried to irritate the animal. 
Then the president, in a fury, ordered the lancers to run 
the bear through the body : and Terentianus (the editor of 
the games) dreading the president's anger, determined to 
make sure by letting in on the martyrs a lioness which had 
been sent from Antioch by Herod ; but the lioness, to the 
terror of the spectators, began bounding to the place where 
they were reclining ; and when at length she came to the 
martyrs, as it were kneeling down before Theracius, who 
dragged and annoyed her, she seemed, by cowering down 
submissively, to attest her veneration, conducting herself 
less like a lioness than a lamb. Shouts of admiration burst 
forth from the whole amphitheatre, overpowering Maximus 
with confusion, who screamed to the keepers to infuriate 
and goad on the lioness. But the beast, with another 
bound, broke through the palisade back to her den, and 
the manager, Terentianus, was ordered to proceed, with- 
out further interlude, with the gladiators, directing them 
first to dispatch the martyrs with their swords." 

There are on record one or two extraordinary facts where 
animals refused to touch slaves who were cast to them ; but 
these were exceptional cases of recognition and gratitude — 
a trait of nobility often found more practised in the brute 
creation than in reasoning man. Our readers are familiar 
with the story of Androclus and the Lion. 

Seneca also mentions in his Second Book, and ninth 
chapter, De Beneficiis, that a lion would not touch one of 
his keepers who was condemned to be exposed to the wild 
beasts. In the life of St. Sabba, a fact similar to that of 
Androclus is mentioned, and the grateful lion lived at the 
monastery with his monks. 

But these facts, interesting and strange as they may be, 
were not miracles. There was no more of the supernatural 
about them than there is in the fidelity of a dog, who 
6* E 



66 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

would lose his life in defence of even an unkind master. It 
is only the interposition of the divine power that can stay 
the enraged animals in their spring upon a defenceless vic- 
tim, or make them crouch at the feet of persons they could 
never have seen before, whilst at the same moment the very 
men who fed them become victims of their rage. These 
wonders Almighty God worked in behalf of His servants ; 
and the great St. Eustachius, with his family, is another 
instance of this wonderful preservation. 

In the life of this great martyr we have one of the extra- 
ordinary sacred romances of the second century. A con- 
version more wonderful than St. Paul's, a life of trial and 
affliction like the Patriarch Job, and a glorious death by 
martyrdom, the most terrible in the annals of persecution. 
No sensational novel of modern days ever detailed the 
imaginary vicissitudes of life more strange and more inter- 
esting than what we have here in reality, and handed down 
to us with all the authority of history. There are men 
accustomed to doubt of everything strange in history, and 
they smile with sarcasm at our credulity in believing some 
of the most sacred records of the past ; — but we will first 
give an epitome of the extraordinary events of the life of 
St. Eustachius, and then show that we are recording a 
scene from the pages of ecclesiastical history, of the truth 
of which there is no reason to doubt. 

2. 

Eustachius, or Placidus, as he was generally called, was 
a Roman general in the time of the Emperors Trajan and 
Adrian. The Romans were from the very birth of their 
dynasty a brave and warlike people, and the heroes who led 
them on to battle and conquest were men of consummate 
skill and intelligence, and are justly immortalized on the 
pages of history. In ancient times the art of warfare was 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY, 6j 

rude and undeveloped, and the whole existence of an army 
depended upon the skill of its general. He had to direct 
where there was no order, no intelligence, no judgment, 
save that which flashed from his own superior mind ; he 
moved the mighty machine of brutal and living force as 
he willed ; the roughest and wildest spirits were cemented 
together into the irresistible phalanx by one element alone, 
and it was confidence in their leader ; his skill was more to 
the army than numbers, position, or courage. Thus it was 
that Caesar, one of the greatest warriors of the past, said, 
he feared more the general without an army than an army 
without a general. Placidus (as we will henceforth call 
him) was one of the great generals of the Roman army at 
the commencement of the second century. 

His influence and name were as great among the soldiers 
on account of his virtues as for his triumphs and military 
skill. He was admired by all for his mildness, love of jus- 
tice, and charity. He was the father of his soldiers, and 
treated them with leniency and justice — virtues unknown 
to the barbarian soldier, but loved the moment their be- 
nign influence were felt. He was generous and charitable 
to the unfortunate, and although a Pagan, he was eminently 
chaste. True greatness is incompatible with the indulgence 
of the brutal propensities of man. The virtues and exalted 
position of Placidus rendered him the most conspicuous 
man of the time, like the solitary star shining through the 
dark masses of cloud on a stormy night. No wonder he was 
signalled out by Providence as the object of special grace, 
and the instrument of great wonders, for Almighty God 
loves virtue anji order although practised by an infidel, and 
He never fails to reward it in due time. 

A soldier offered alms to St. Francis. In recompense for 
this act of charity, Almighty God revealed to the Saint the 
soldier's approaching death. Francis gave him the pro- 



68 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

phetic warning, and prepared him for a happy end. Per- 
haps it was charity, some silent act of benevolence in the 
life of Placidus that brought down from heaven the great 
grace of conversion and made him a vessel of election. 
This seems even more probable from the words addressed 
to him by our blessed Lord himself, at the moment of his 
call to Christianity. 

One day Placidus went out according to his custom to 
hunt. He proceeded with some officers of the cavalry 
division over which he had the command, to the brow of 
the Sabine hills, and fell in with a troop of beautiful stags. 
Among them there was one larger and more beautiful than 
the rest, and Placidus immediately pursued it with all the 
ardor of the chase. In the excitement, which huntsmen 
alone know, he was soon separated from his companions, 
and passed over hills and rapid rivers and on the edges of 
the most terrible precipices. He knew no danger and he 
was not accustomed to defeat ; on he went, over mountains 
and through valleys, until he came up with his magnificent 
prize in a wild and lonely ravine, not far from the spot where 
now stands the picturesque village of Guadagnolo. This 
was the moment and place in which the providence of God 
destined to illumine the mind of the great general with the 
light of Christianity. The stag stood on the ledge of a rock 
just over him, and between its beautiful and branching horns 
there was a dazzling light \ in the midst of an aureola of 
splendor he saw an image of the crucifixion. Struck with 
wonder and amazement, he heard a voice saying to him ; 
11 Placidus, why dost thou follow Me? Behold, I have 
taken this form to speak to thee ; I am the Christ, whom 
thou servest without knowing it. Thy charity and deeds of 
benevolence to the poor have stood before Me, and have 
made Me follow thee with My mercy. The just man, dear 
to Me on account of his works, must not serve devils and 
false gods, who cannot give life or reward." 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 69 

Placidus dismounted in terror and confusion. He could 
not remove his eyes from the beautiful vision that shone 
more brilliantly than the sun between the horns of the stag, 
and although he heard, he did not understand the voice 
that spoke to him. At length, gaining courage, he cried 
out in an excited and tremulous tone : 

"What voice is this? Who speaks? — reveal Thyself 
that I may know Thee." 

Again the heavenly sounds fell on his ears, and he heard 
these words : 

"I am Jesus Christ, who created heaven and earth out 
of nothing, who threw all matter into shape, and made the 
light spring from the chaos of darkness. I am He who 
created the moon and the stars, and caused the day and 
the night ; who created man from the slime of the earth, 
and for his redemption appeared in human flesh, was cm 
cified, and rose the third day from the dead. Go, Placidus, 
to the city and seek the chief pastor of the Christians and 
be baptized." 

A ray — the last ray of the brilliant light which had daz- 
zled his eyes, had entered his heart, and he understood all. 
He remained for hours on his knees, in his first warm and 
grateful prayer to the true God. When he awoke from his 
deep reverie of adoration and prayer, he found all was dark 
and silent. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, 
and his faithful and wearied horse and dog slept beside him. 
He rose, like the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus, 
with the courage of a lion, to proclaim the truth of the 
Christian religion, and the wonderful mercy of God. He 
roused his horse, and returned slowly through the bleak 
passes of the mountain towards the city. 

Placidus was married to a noble and virtuous wife, and 
although a Pagan, she was, like her husband, kind and be- 
nevolent. Almighty God prepared her heart for the gift of 



70 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

faith ; and when Placidus told her of his wonderful vision, 
she cried out that the God of the Christians was the true 
God, for He alone could perform such wonders. Under 
the shade of the night they stole away, with their two chil- 
dren, to the lonely crypt where the holy Father ruled the 
Church of God. 

It is probable that the terrible persecution of Domitian was 
but subsiding at this time. The Christians were obliged to 
seek shelter in the Catacombs from the fury ofihe storm ; and 
whilst Almighty God permitted that they could not preach 
the law of grace and redemption publicly to the world, he 
supplied the ministry by the interior operations of grace, 
and gave to His suffering and banished Apostles the con- 
solation of a more fruitful harvest. If, as we imagine, the 
martyrdom of Eustachius did not take place until about six- 
teen years after his baptism, the holy Pope Anacletus (ac- 
cording to Baronius) must have been sitting in the chair of 
St. Peter. Trajan was at this time Emperor, and of his 
character and reign we have already spoken in the life of 
St. Ignatius. 

We can imagine with what joy the holy Pope poured the 
regenerating waters of baptism on the heads of the Roman 
general and his family. It was on this occasion he received 
the name of Eustachius, his wife was called Theopista, and 
the two children Agapius and Theopiston, all names derived 
from the Greek, expressing favor with God. The parting 
words of the venerable Pontiff to the neophyte family were 
to take up their cross manfully, and bear it, like their cru- 
cified Master, to the very utmost of human endurance ; they 
were called to glorify the Church in the days of its trouble; 
the Christian must be tried in the furnace of affliction; 
"through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom 
of heaven." He seemed to speak with a prophetic spirit, 
for our next chapter will show Placidus proved and found 
faithful. 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY, yi 

3- 

God tries those whom He loves. Having chosen Placidus 
for a vessel of election, he proved him by a series of afflic- 
tions, which made the patience of this great servant shine 
more conspicuously than any other virtue. His biographers 
have compared him to the great patriarch Job. But that light 
which had entered his heart had taught him the secret value 
of trials and afflictions — that they were the choicest favors 
of Heaven. 

He whom he had now taken for his Master and Model, 
was ever in sorrow and affliction ; the disciple is not to be 
better than the Master. A life of ease, a bed of down, silken 
garments, and ornaments of jewels and gold, are not the 
armor which distinguishes the soldiers of a naked and cru- 
cified God. When we suffer the slight and passing sorrows 
of life, we should remember they are tokens of God's pre- 
dilection and sanctiflcation for our souls. 

After his baptism and reception into the Church, Placidus 
returned to the memorable spot in the Sabine hills where 
he had beheld the wonderful vision, to give thanks to God. 
The Most High was pleased with his prompt and generous 
response to the call of grace, and vouchsafed to give him 
again other and consoling visions, and to forewarn him of 
the trials that were awaiting him. 

He had no sooner reached his home after his pilgrimage;, 
than the terrible storm of sorrow broke on him and crushed 
him to the very earth. The sad tale of his trial would ex- 
cite pity in the hardest heart. In a few days he lost all his 
horses and cattle, and every living thing about his house; 
even his servants and domestics were swept away by a viru- 
lent pestilence. The awful gloom that death had spread 
around, the stench of unburied carcasses, and the unhealthy 
state of the corrupted atmosphere, obliged him to leave his 



72 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

home for a while ; but this was a source of new affliction. 
During his absence, thieves had entered his house and re- 
moved everything he had; he was reduced to absolute 
beggary. At this time, the whole city was rejoicing and 
celebrating the triumph of the Roman arms over the Per- 
sians. Placidus could not join in these festivities, and, over- 
come with grief, disappointment, and shame, he agreed 
with his wife to flee to some unknown country, where at 
least they could bear their sufferings and their poverty with- 
out the cruel taunts of proud and unfeeling friends. 

They made their way to Ostia, and found a vessel about to 
start for Egypt. They had no money to pay for a passage ; 
but the captain, who was a cruel and bad man, seeing the 
youth and beauty of Theopista, the wife of Placidus, felt 
an impure passion spring up in his heart, and thought by 
permitting them on board, he might be able to gratify his 
wicked desires. But he knew nothing of the beauty, the 
sublimity, the inviolability of the virtue of chastity in the 
Christian female ; and when he found himself treated with 
the scorn of indignant virtue at even the whispered sug- 
gestion of infidelity, he writhed under his disappointment, 
and meditated revenge. The devil suggested a plan. Ar- 
rived at the shores of Africa, the captain* again demanded 
the fee for the passage, and intimated to Placidus, if it were 
not paid, he would keep Theopista as a hostage. He was 
sent on shore with his two helpless little children, and his 
beautiful and faithful spouse was forcibly detained on board ; 
they immediately set sail for another port. 

"Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of war- 
like men. ' ' Poor Placidus felt the warm tears steal down 
his cheek as he saw the sails of the little bark filled with a 
fair wind, and waft from him the greatest treasure he pos- 
sessed in this world. He saw himself on a barren and in- 
hospitable shore, exiled, poor, and widowed. Did his 






THE ROMAX GEXERAL AXD HIS -FAMILY. 73 

faithful legions but know of his sad fate, how their trusty 
swords would flash in vindication of their injured general ! 
Looking on his little ones, robbed of their mother and 
protector, he drew them near his breaking heart, and 
pointing with a trembling finger to the white speck the 
little vessel now made on the blue horizon, he cried out, 
"Your mother is given to a stranger." Striking his fore- 
head with his hand, he bent down and wept bitterly. 
There is no pang in human sorrow so galling as blighted 
affection, and this is more keenly felt when the object of 
our love is handed over, not to death, to bloodshed, or 
want, but to infamy and dishonor. Even the Pagan parent 
would plunge the dagger into the heart of his Virginia 
rather than let her live in dishonor. But "better is the 
patient man than the brave." The man who can bear 
trials and misfortune is greater than the hero of the battle- 
field. Remembering his promise to God in the ravine of 
the Apennines, he instantly checked his grief, and rising up, 
with an ejaculation like holy Job, and taking his two little 
children by the hand, he moved towards the interior of the 
country with a brave and resigned heart. But God had 
other trials to prove him yet more. 

He had not gone far when he came up to a river much 
swollen by some late rains ; it was fordable, but Placidus 
saw it would be dangerous to take his two children over 
together, so he determined to take one first, then another. 
Leaving one on the bank, he entered into the stream with 
the youngest. He had scarcely reached the opposite bank 
when the screams of the other child attracted his attention, 
and looking round, he beheld an enormous lion taking the 
child in his mouth and carrying it away to devour it. 
Placidus left the infant in his arms on the bank, and, reck- 
less of fear or danger, plunged once more into the rushing 
torrent. Grief must be terrible when it can make an un- 
7 



74 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

armed man believe he can chase and fight the king of the 
forest. He was scarcely out of the stream when his other 
child was seized by a wolf. This last afflicting sight para- 
lyzed his courage, and he could not move another step. 
He fell on his knees, and appealed to the great God who 
he knew had arranged all, and, with the fervor of his 
young faith and the natural sorrow of a bereaved father, he 
prayed for patience that no blasphemy might escape from 
his lips, that no misgivings might undermine the confi- 
dence of his worship. He remained for some time in 
prayer, and felt the balm of heavenly consolation gradually 
creeping over his troubled soul. Faith alone can break 
the barriers of time and waft the soul in anticipation to the 
union that immortality must bring. Placidus committed 
his family to God, and knew they were happy ; and as for 
himself, he determined to bear manfully the few days of 
trouble which Providence had yet allotted to him. He 
arose once more from his prayer, strengthened and con- 
soled, more detached from every human consolation, more 
united to God. He soon left the vicinity of these sad and 
sorrowful scenes, and fled to another part of the country. 

We next find Placidus as a poor laborer in a farm called 
Bardyssa. But this is the last part of the dark night of 
his trial, the twilight that precedes a glorious sunrise. 
Almighty God had now proved His servant by the severest 
adversity which can befall a man ; in a whirlwind of afflic- 
tion He blasted all his temporal comforts, his domestic 
felicity and paternal affection ; and the neophyte vessel of 
election was found faithful, and now comes the sunshine of 
his crown. Some years had passed since he lost his wife 
and children, and he had spent all that time unknown, in 
labor, prayer, and solitude, mounting higher and higher 
on the ladder of perfection, and in union with God ; but 
the time of his reward is at hand, and by one grand stroke 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. ?$ 

of that all-directing Providence which knows no chance, 
he was restored to all his former honor and comfort. He 
was again placed at the head of the Roman army, and re- 
stored to the embraces of his wife and children, never more 
to be separated, not even by death ; for they were all 
brought together to the endless joys of heaven by the 
glorious death of martyrdom. Let us follow the course of 
events that brought about these great and consoling effects. 

4- 

The great capital of the Roman Empire is all in com- 
motion. News has been brought from the East that the 
Persians and other nations had broken over the frontier 
and were devastating everything before them. Prepara- 
tions were made for war on every side. Old veterans were 
brushing up their swords, and armies of young men were 
pouring in from the provinces. Fresh rumors of the 
advancing foe gave new impulse to the excitement, and an 
expedition of more than usual magnitude and importance 
was speedily equipped. The haughty soul of Trajan, who 
still sat on the throne of the Caesars, could not brook for 
a moment the slightest infringement on the Empire, or the 
diminution of his own glory; and he lost no time and 
spared no expense in striking quickly and heavily on the 
daring enemy. But to whom will he commit his warlike 
legions and the very fate of the Empire? There were 
none but young and inexperienced men around him. He 
thought of Placidus, the commander of his horse, who had 
carried the tide of victory, in years gone by, to the farthest 
limits of the Empire, the great general who was the idol of 
the army and the terror of every foe. Rumor said he was 
still alive, but retired from public life. Trajan seized the 
rumor with all the avidity of a man whose hopes had been 
blasted and was risking everything on a last chance. He 



7 6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

offered immense rewards to any one who would discover 
the retreat of Placidus, and bring him once more at the 
head of the iron legions of the Empire. In burning 
anxiety and doubt he delayed the departure of the expe- 
dition from day to day, hoping that some tidings would 
come of his favorite general. He was not disappointed, for 
Placidus was found. 

Two veterans, named Antiochus and Achacius, started 
off towards the Egyptian provinces in search of Placidus. 
Their wanderings and unceasing inquiries seemed fruitless, 
when one morning, as they were giving up the search, 
and were about to return to the sea-shore, they came up to 
a beautiful and well-kept farm, and a short distance from 
them they beheld a poor laboring-man at work. They 
went towards him, and made inquiries if a Roman citizen 
named Placidus lived in those regions. The two soldiers 
thought they saw something in the old man which reminded 
them of their general ; the nobility of his appearance and 
bearing seemed to tell of one who had seen better days ; 
they even thought they saw in his worn features, browned 
by the sun and wrinkled by grief and care, some traces of 
the amiable features of Placidus ; yet, it could not be ; their 
general an exile, a laborer in this miserable place ! What 
reverse of fortune could have reduced him to this change ? 
how could so great a man be cast from such honor and glory 
to such obscurity and poverty? But he who stood before 
them in the tattered garments of a poor laborer had al- 
ready recognized two of the bravest veterans of his legions. 
The memory of the wars and battles and victories of other 
days flashed across his mind, the very places these two men 
took in the defeat of the enemy, their bravery by his side 
in the field of battle, and the scars they received in the 
bloody fight, — all rushed on him in a moment, and roused 
every great and brave feeling of his soul. He was about 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL Y. J? 

to run towards his companions-in-arms and embrace them, 
but prudence held him back, and by an act of self-control 
he suppressed his excited feeling. Drawing himself up ma- 
jestically with a sigh, which alone told" of the struggle that 
passed within, he asked, "Why seek you Placidus?" 
Whilst Antiochus was recounting how the enemies of the 
Empire had once more declared war in the East, and the 
Emperor wished to intrust to that general alone the care 
of the expedition, and had sent the soldiers who served 
under him to all parts to seek him, Placidus could no 
longer contain his feelings, and opening the rude garment 
that covered the scars on his breast, he showed them to the 
astonished veterans, and told them that he was the general 
they sought. Another moment and they were hanging 
round his neck and shedding tears of joy. 

Rome was once saved by the brave Cincinnatus, taken 
from his plough to defend the threatened city. Like the 
great chief of old, Placidus was received with the universal 
joy of the people — the confidence of the army was re- 
stored, and new life appeared in all the troops — battles and 
triumphs were anticipated and declared before they were 
fought or won. The Emperor was filled with delight ; he 
embraced his former master of the horse, listened with in- 
terest to the history of the vicissitudes of his loss and grief; 
and placing around his waist the golden belt of consular 
command, begged of him to draw his sword once more in 
the cause of the Empire. The holy man had already re- 
cognized, in the humility and prayer of his heart, the great 
change that had come over his circumstances so strangely 
and so suddenly as the disposition of the loving providence 
of God, and prepared, even in his old age, to mingle again 
in the din of arms and fatigues of war. During the days 
of his trial and resignation in the lonely vineyards of Egypt, 
the Divine Spirit had revealed to him that a day of restora- 
7* 



78 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

tion to all he had lost in this world would soon dawn on 
his gloomy path. Here is the first step in the fulfilment 
of his dream; — let us see how God brought about the 
rest. 

Whilst Placidus is casting his rough army into shape, 
and exercising his soldiers in the terrible science of blood- 
shed and war, we must retrace our steps for a moment, and 
take a glance at the poor, wretched Theopista, whom we 
left in the bark of the tyrant captain who cruelly tore her 
from her husband and her children. 

Doubtless, in the sympathy of his pious heart, the reader 
has pitied her in her affliction, and hoped that some fortu- 
nate circumstance may have saved her. But has Almighty 
God ever abandoned His servants when the angelical virtue 
was threatened ? Who more powerful before Him than the 
innocent defenceless female ? In the history of the past no 
virtue has had more visible protection from Heaven than 
chastity; no vice has caused more terrible vengeance than 
impurity. The prayer of the virgin for the protection of 
her innocence not only pierced the clouds, but drew from 
them the electric bolt that struck the oppressor with judg- 
ment. Fear not for the virtuous and faithful Theopista; 
God is her shield ; and who can prevail against the Most 
High ? The means He adopted to protect His servant were 
silent, consoling, and merciful. He did not strike the im- 
pious captain with a sudden and terrible blow of merited 
retribution, but He breathed on his heart a sentiment of 
tenderness and pity that made him blush for his cruelty and 
impiety towards the young mother. Scarcely had the fair 
wind wafted the little ship out of sight of Theopista's hus- 
band and children, than the sobs which grief was pressing 
from her breaking heart struck a fibre of pity in the heart 
of the Pagan captain. At the same moment Almighty God 
removed the stimulus of the flesh, and made him love and 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL V. ?g 

admire in his captive a virtue he never knew before. The 
virtuous soul is like the fruit-tree in blossom, that gives 
fragrance to every breeze, and spreads a delicious odor 
on the atmosphere around. The sublimity of virtue that 
shone in the fidelity of the Christian matron, the patience 
and forgiveness of that suffering child of misfortune, so 
completely won the Pagan, that, from being her enemy 
and oppressor, he became her protector and guardian. He 
landed Theopista at the next port he touched at, and gave 
her money and goods to maintain her for some time. She, 
too, had her share of trial, and fifteen long years of suffer- 
ing and exile proved her worthy of the joy and crown that 
were awaiting her. 

Everything was ready, and the expedition started for the . 
East. The spirit of joy and bravery which animated the 
soldiers was the harbinger of the greatest triumphs. They 
poured in thousands through the eastern gate of the city, 
and whilst the morning sun was reflected from their bur- 
nished battle-axes and spears, the tombs of their mighty 
dead, which lined the Appian Way, were made to echo once 
more with the war-songs of the irresistible legions of the 
Empire. The octogenarian leader — the Christian Placidus 
— brought up the rear of the march, and was drawn in a 
chariot by two beautiful Arab horses. We need not tarry 
long over the oft-told tale of Roman triumph. The legions 
poured like Alpine avalanches into the country of the enemy, 
crushing in their course everything that was opposed to 
them. Not only were the rebellious subjects reduced to 
submission, but the conquering eagle spread its wings over 
new dominions, and new provinces were added to the 
boundless territory of the Caesars. 

The meekness and skill of Placidus knew how to turn 
everything to profit ; few of his conquests were purchased 
with unnecessary bloodshed and carnage. He pardoned 



80 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

freely, and never retributed the resistance of a brave people 
by a retaliation so terrible in the annals of Pagan warfare. 

Every army has its heroes. The campaign of Placidus 
was nearly at an end before its real soldiers were known. 
Where the conquest was easy all were brave, but a moment 
of danger and trial came, and the laurels of fame fell to 
those who won them. The army was surprised in an am- 
buscade, but was saved by the prompt action of two youths 
belonging to the Numidian corps. They were two brave 
young men who had met each other for the first time in the 
ranks and became friends. They were strolling outside of 
the camp when the cry " To arms" was heard. They 
rushed like startled lions to the front and cheered on their 
companions ; they fought together against fearful odds, but 
their battle-axes were wielded rapidly and skilfully, and 
dealt destruction on every side. With a few brave com- 
panions they withstood the progress of the enemy until 
their own army had come up to the rescue ; such brave and 
unexpected resistance sent a panic through the enemy, and 
they fled with terrible massacre ; some thousands were slain, 
and the army of opposition was so completely destroyed 
that it never stood in the field of battle again. 

The general had seen what had passed, and when the 
battle was over, he sent for the young heroes who had saved 
the army, raised them to the rank of captain, and bestowed 
on them the honor of his intimate friendship. 

The army had passed on from triumph to triumph, and 
we must now open the scene of our tale on a wild plain on 
the coast of Arabia, where they were encamped before the 
return to the great capital. There were a few little huts of 
fishermen on the sea-shore, and here and there, along the 
banks of a fertile stream, some pretty little houses surrounded 
by gardens and vineyards. Among them there was one 
more beautiful than the rest, and running on a gentle slope 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 8 1 

towards the river. It belonged to a poor widow, who lived 
by the fruits of her little garden and the labor of her own 
hands. Here the old general, wearied and fatigued from 
the hardships and privations of the campaign, pitched his 
tent, and arranged to remain some time before undertaking 
the fatiguing journey of return. Near him he had the two 
young captains, whom he had made his confidants, and 
treated as if they were his adopted children. Doubtless 
the old man saw in the youth and beauty of the young men 
what his own sons would have been if they had been spared 
to him. Some invisible attraction made him love them 
tenderly, and he could not bear them to be absent from his 
side. They, too, grew in the deepest friendship with each 
other ; a similarity of feeling and disposition, a secret love 
for virtue, and a certain trait of nobility in every thought 
and action, not only knit them together in inseparable bonds 
of harmony, but enhanced them in the love and esteem of 
all who knew them. 

One day, as was their custom, they strolled together along 
the banks of the little stream. Everything was fresh and 
beautiful around them ; the birds, sang in the trees ; and the 
flowers, that grew in great abundance in the vicinity of the 
stream, spread a thousand odors on the gentle breeze that 
rippled the waters. The young soldiers sat down under the 
shade of a fig-tree and entered into an animated conversa- 
tion. The elder was a tall, handsome young man of about 
eighteen years, and seemed about two years older than his 
companion. He was of a gentle, silent disposition, and 
often seemed lost in thought as if some cloud hung over 
him. His younger companion noticed this to be particu- 
larly the case on the day in question, and during their con- 
versation he would frequently pause and look abstractedly 
on the little stream, which was rapidly rising and swelling 
up to its banks from a heavy shower which had fallen in the 

F 



82 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

neighboring mountains. In that familiarity which their tried 
friendship permitted, he affectionately asked his companion 
the cause of his trouble. "It is now some time since you 
and I first met, ' ' we can imagine the young officer to have 
said, " and I have all along thought you had some secrets 
locked up in your heart which it would console and interest 
me to hear. Do tell me your history, that I may partici- 
pate in your sorrow. You know I am your friend." The 
other, looking on him with kindness, and as if reading his 
countenance to see if he were in earnest, grasped his hand, 
and turning his eyes towards heaven, gave a sigh; then 
drawing his companion nearer to him, he said, in an excited 
manner, "Yes, I will tell you a strange story, but you 
must not betray my secret. I am a Roman citizen and a 
Christian ! ' ' The young man started as if a clap of thun- 
der had burst over him, but the other, preventing him from 
saying a word, and calling him by his name, continued in 
a kind and majestic tone: "Although I enlisted in the 
Roman army in the same province as yourself, I was- not 
born there. My father was a Roman general and a man of 
great esteem. I remember, when I was but five years of 
age, one day he went to hunt, as was his custom, and did 
not return until an early hour the next morning. He came 
home in an excited state, and said things that made my 
mother weep. The following night, when all was dark and 
still, they took me and my little brother, who was only 
three years old, to a dark cave in the earth, and after we 
had passed some winding and gloomy corridors, we entered 
a little room beautifully lit up. There was an aged man sit- 
ting on a stone chair, and he wore a beautiful stole round 
his neck. The walls of the little room were covered with 
beautiful paintings of men in rich garments, of fishes, and 
lambs, and I remember the picture of a man nailed to a 
cross. The venerable old man spoke to my father and 






THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL Y. 83 

mother for a long time. I do not remember all he said, but 
he spoke of the true God whom the Pagans did not know, 
and all the good things that God had done for man — how 
He loved him, how He died for him, how He promised 
him eternal happiness hereafter. My parents were very 
much affected, and I remember my father wept again, as if 
he had done something wrong, Then the aged man poured 
water on our heads, and called us all by different names ; 
my name was Agapius. I knew by all this I was made a 
Christian and a child of the great God he spoke of. After 
this, many prayers were said, and when leaving that strange 
place, my father and mother seemed very much rejoiced. 
Soon after this, my father suffered the loss of all his pro- 
perty; his cattle and horses died of a terrible disease; even 
our slaves and servants also died; and we left the house 
and went to a vineyard outside the Nomentan Gate. While 
away, my father was robbed of all he had, and was reduced 
to poverty. Then one night, taking my brother and myself 
and mother, he led us to the sea-shore, and we got into a 
ship, and were fifteen days on the rough sea. When we 
came to land, my father and my little brother and myself 
were sent on shore, but not my mother, and the little ship 
went away with her immediately. Oh, I shall never forget 
the grief of my poor father on that occasion ! " Here he 
buried his face in his hands and wept for some time, and a 
tear stole down the cheek of his young companion. Looking 
up again, he continued his tale amid tears and deep sighs. 
"Then, rising suddenly, he took my little brother in his 
arms and me by the hand, and we went into the country. 
We came to a river that was running very rapidly, and as 
my father could not take us both over together, he bade me 
remain on the bank whilst he took my little brother over 
first, promising to come back for me. But while my father 
was crossing the stream — oh, I shall never forget it ! — a 



84 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

terrible lion came out of the woods and seized me." A 
shudder passed over his companion ; he seemed all excite- 
ment, and cried out, "How strange ! but tell me how you 
were saved." He seemed much agitated; some words had 
come to his lips, but he repressed them and listened with 
motionless anxiety to the remainder of his companion's 
story. " Well," continued the young captain, " I screamed 
for help, but it was too late. The lion caught me in his 
mouth — I have still the marks of his teeth on my body — 
and carried me towards the forest. Fortunately there were 
some shepherds passing by, and when they saw me, they set 
their dogs "after the lion. One of the dogs caught hold Of 
me and was pulling me from him, when the lion let me fall 
and seized the dog, and went away with it. The shepherds 
carried me to their little house, and a good woman put me 
to bed and took care of me. I recovered, and grew up in 
that house, but I never saw my father or my brother since 
then." Seizing his companion by the arm, and his eyes 
suffused with tears, he said: "Wonder not, my friend, that 
I am sad ; this stream, those trees, and this wild plain in 
which we are encamped, remind me of those terrible scenes 
of my youth. Can I ever forget that day on which I lost 
father, mother, brother — all ? ' ' He could say no more, 
but buried his face in his hands again and wept bitterly. 
He remarked, during the recital of his story, that his young 
friend was getting more and more excited ; and from time 
to time gave expression to incoherent sentences and ejacu- 
lations of surprise. " Strange ! It must be ! Oh, joy ! " 
was all the young man could say. After a moment's silence, 
he cried out, with energy and excitement, " Agapius, I be- 
lieve I am thy brother!" The other started. "How! 
speak ! say why thou thinkest so — or dost thou trifle with 
my sorrow ? ' ' The young man replied quickly, and with 
agitation, " I too lost my parents in my youth. The people 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL Y. 8$ 

who brought me up told me they saved me from a wolf 
near the stream of Chobar ; that I was of noble Roman 
family, for I had around my neck this golden ornament." 
Whilst he was putting his hand into his breast to look for 
the ornament, the other sprang to his feet in excitement, 
and cried out, " Show it ! has it got on it the name of 
Theophistus and the Ides of March?" — " Yes ! here it is." 
Agapius, recognizing the amulet his mother had put round 
his neck on the morning after their baptism, caught the 
young man in his arms, and cried out, " My brother, my 
brother!" 

Further explanations placed the fact beyond doubt, and 
die two brothers remained for hours together, every now 
and then embracing each other with tears of the sincerest 
joy. They told each other all the particulars of their after- 
lives. Theophistus was saved from the wolf by some 
ploughmen, who saw the child in its mouth, and rescuing 
him, brought him up as one of their own children. They 
were reared some miles apart from each other and did not 
know it, and God, whose ways are inscrutable, brought 
them together in the Roman army, that he might restore 
them to their lost father and mother, as the reward of their 
patience and virtue. The joy of the young men was to be 
increased by another discovery more consoling and more 
extraordinary. The reader knows it already ; their gen- 
eral is their father. 

When the bursting joy and excitement of the first mo- 
ments of recognition had subsided, they agreed to repair 
to their general to inform him of the extraordinary dis- 
covery they had made. They found the old man in his 
tent, sitting at a rude table ; his face was covered with his 
hands, and he seemed rapt in meditation and thought. 

The eldest rushed towards him with joy, and told him 
he had strange and joyful glad news to tell him. The old 
8 



$6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

man raised his head ; his eyes were moist, and a cloud of 
gloom mantled his brow. Looking with a parental smile 
on the cheerful youth, he said to him : " Speak, then, my 
child, for thy joy shall be mine ; the happiness of others 
makes us forget our own sorrows ; thy words will come 
like sunshine breaking through the gloom of my heart. 
Alas ! this day has sad reminiscences for me. It is the an- 
niversary of a series of misfortunes which deprived me of 
my wife and my children." Here he paused for a mo- 
ment, and raising his eyes, dimmed with the filling tears, 
towards heaven, exclaimed, "But it was the will of Him 
who reigns above; He gave, and He took awayi blessed 
be His holy name ! " The young captain was astonished. 
It was the first time his old general prayed to the true God 
before him. A thousand thoughts rushed into his mind ; 
he knew not whether he should first declare that he too 
was a Christian, or relate the discovery of his brother. He 
loved the old man as a father, and his spftened heart 
melted once more to see his veteran chief in sorrow. A 
few hasty explanations sufficed to reveal the truth that he 
was talking to his own father. Another moment, and the 
young men were hanging round his neck, and the old 
chief was pressing his brave sons to his heart. Let the 
imagination paint the picture that no pen can draw. One 
moment of joy like this outweighs years of the darkest trial. 
But the dark and stormy night of Placidus' trial is passing 
away, and the brilliant sunshine of reward is rising over 
him — a sunshine which, during the rest of his life, will be 
clouded but for a moment, to usher in the dazzling bright- 
ness of eternal, unchangeable joy — that moment will be 
death by martyrdom for the faith of Christ. 

Whilst the events we have been recording were taking 
place, there was a great commotion in the camp. A 
courier had arrived in great haste. He announced the 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL V. 87 

death of Trajan in Selinonte (a town in Cilicia), and the 
election of Adrian by the army. This election had been 
confirmed by the Senate ; and the army of Placidus was 
ordered to return immediately, to join in the triumph 
accorded by universal acclamation to the ashes of the con- 
queror of the Parthians and Armenians. The soldiers 
under Placidus had been nearly two years absent from the 
capital, and were wearied with the fatigues and privations 
of war. They hailed with joy the news of their recall. 
Their deafening shouts, announcing some joyful tidings, 
had reached the very tent of the general before the mes- 
senger could be brought before him. When he had read 
the despatch, he ordered all preparations to be made for a 
general march on the morrow. All was confusion and 
bustle in the camp. The two captains had repaired to 
their respective corps to superintend the arrangements for 
departure. Placidus had retired to his tent to commune 
with God in prayer, and to thank Him for the joy he felt 
on that auspicious day. He was suddenly interrupted by a 
servant announcing that the poor woman who owned the 
garden on which his tent was pitched wished to see him. 
Placidus was not a proud, austere man, who left the busi- 
ness of the poor to be transacted by a cruel and heartless 
official ; he was accessible to the roughest soldier in his 
camp, as well as to the highest of his officers. By a sign 
of his hand he signified his assent to have her brought 
before him. 

She seemed advanced in years, and the victim of much 
sorrow. Her attenuated frame, and the meanness of her 
dress, told of want and poverty ; yet her bearing was noble. 
Her eyes were bloodshot, and showed signs of much weep- 
ing; tears had traced their own channels down her cheeks; 
but her countenance still, in all its tender expression of 
care and grief, showed evident traces of beauty, nobility, 



88 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and innocence. Having entered the tent, she fell on her 
knees before Placidus, and said, "Great chief and leader 
of the armies of Rome ! I beseech thee to commiserate the 
sorrows of a poor unfortunate woman. I am a Roman 
citizen. Some years ago I was separated from my husband 
and children, and brought here by force for unlawful pur- 
poses ; but I pledge my word, before thee and before 
Heaven, I never lost my fidelity to my husband and my 
children. I am here an exile, in sorrow and misery. I 
ask thee, by the love thou bearest to thy own spouse and 
children, to take me back to Rome — to my friends — to 
my ' ' — She could say no more. In her excitement she 
sprang to her feet — she clasped her hands — and looking 
fixedly at Placidus, she recognized her husband. At the 
moment she appealed to him for the love he bore his 
spouse, the aged general raised his hand to his forehead to 
hide the ever ready tell-tale tear of his afflicted heart. In 
turning his head he exposed a large scar on the back of his 
ear ; the quick eye of the matron recognized the wound 
her husband received in the Judaic wars, and one steady 
look at the worn and changed features of Placidus con- 
vinced her. She rushed towards him, and with sobs that 
choked every word, " Tell me, I beseech thee, art thou 
Placidus — the master of the Roman horse — whom the 
true God spoke to in the mountains of Italy — who was 
baptized — called Eustachius — lost his wife" — "Yes! 
yes!" interrupted Placidus. " Knowest thou of her? 
Speak ! — does she still live ? ' ' The poor creature made 
an effort to throw herself into his arms, but overcome by 
emotion, fell to the ground, crying out, "I am Theopista! " 
The weakened frame of Theopista could not bear the 
shock of the sudden discovery. When motion returned, 
she was still delirious, and seemed like one who saw a 
beautiful dream passing before her. At times her reason 






THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 89 

returned, and she would ask, "-Is it true? Does the evil 
spirit create phantasms to deceive me ? Oh joy ! How 
good is God! " 

Another hour, and the little tent of Placidus was the 
scene of joy seldom felt on this side of the grave. Four 
widowed and bleeding hearts were healed; the husband 
and the spouse, the parents and the children, after years of 
separation and trial, were thrown together and recognized 
in the space of a few hours. Almighty God had never 
abandoned them for a moment from the time He decreed 
the vicissitudes which were to try them ; finding them faith- 
ful, He knew how to reward. The flood of joy which He 
pours on the faithful hearts of His servants is but as a stray 
rivulet of the mighty stream of ineffable delight that inun- 
dates the souls of the beatified. If Christians would re- 
member that God watches with a special providence over 
the afflicted — that the troubles and trials of life are often 
directly sent by Him — how many a pang would lose its 
sting, how many a bitter loss and disappointment would 
become, not only supportable, but the source of interior 
joy ! The troubled soul humbly kneeling before the cruci- 
fix, is the type of the true Christian. If the strange history 
of Placidus should fall into the hands of any one in 
trouble, let him, like that brave and generous soul, await 
the dispositions of Providence without blasphemy, sup- 
pressing even a reproachful thought towards God, and 
every murmur of impatience ; and as sure as the hour of 
trial and affliction is long and dark, so shall the hour of 
reward come quickly, brilliantly, and unclouded. 

Greater joy than the soul can long bear in its earthly 
tenement is prepared by God for this happy family. Their 
union here is to last but for a few weeks. When the camp 
was struck, and the army on the march to Rome, Placidus 
knew, by inspiration, that he was going to the last and 
8* 



9 o 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



most severe struggle which God had in store for him — his 
triumph in death over self, the world, and the powers of 
darkness. He gave all his time to prayer and the instruc- 
tion of his sons in the sublime morality and doctrine of the 
Christian faith. He asked a favor from God, which was 
granted — that as He had deigned, in His mercy, to bring 
him again to the embraces of his family, the happiness of 
their union might never again be clouded by separation ; 
that if the testimony of his blood were demanded for the 
defence of the faith and the glory of the Church, his spouse 
and children might partake in the same last crowning 
favor of the Divine mercy. Whilst the legions are on 
their march from the East, let us go before them to the 
great capital, and prepare our readers for scenes that are 
about to follow. The beautiful and touching history of the 
noble Roman general is to have a tragic termination, — one 
of the brightest in the pages of the Church, but one of the 
darkest in the long annals of Pagan ingratitude and cruelty. 



The weak and superstitious Adrian was sitting on the 
throne of the Caesars. He was a man of little ability, but 
of a low, deceitful, and cruel disposition. He was capa- 
ble of all the horrors which disgraced the reigns of some 
of his predecessors ; but public opinion was sick of whole- 
sale bloodshed, and the awful deaths that closed the in- 
famous career of those tyrants made the worthless Adrian 
tremble, and checked the brutal propensities of his impious 
heart. He was disposed to put in force the laws of perse- 
cution against the Christians, and stain again the great cen- 
tres of public execution with the blood of hundreds of in- 
nocent subjects ; but the example of his predecessor seemed 
to be his guiding star. Under Trajan the Empire was 
prosperous, and the enemies of the East were conquered, 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS TAMIL Y. gt 

and new provinces were added to its boundaries ; yet, in 
his hypocritical policy of conciliation, men of note among 
the Christians were publicly executed ; their blood was in- 
tended to be the pledge of his piety to the demons of pub- 
lic worship. In the first part of his reign, he placed a 
superstitious confidence in the gods ; and the highest exer- 
cise of Pagan piety was the condemnation of the contemners 
of those gods. These of necessity were the Christians ; 
but fear, imbecility, and a ridiculous piety seemed to clash 
in his character, and, like negatives, destroyed each other. 
The consequence was, that the Christians in his reign en- 
joyed a tolerable peace. Yet martyrdoms occasionally 
took place. St. Symphorosa suffered under Adrian ; and 
herself and seven children commemorate in ecclesiastical 
history the completion of his immense villa near Tivoli : 
the ivy-clad walls of its surviving ruins are now the favorite 
stopping-place for excursionists to the ancient Tiber. 
/Among others, we find on the list of martyrs during this 
reign the servant-girl of the celebrated Tertullian, named 
Mary ; SS. Alexander and Sixtus, Popes ; St. Denis the 
Areopagite, and many more, of whom not the least re- 
markable was the hero of our present notice and his family. 
All agree that the persecution of this time Was irregular, 
and depended in a great measure on the fickle, impetuous, 
and cruel disposition of the Emperor. It was never during 
his reign completely extinct, but, like living embers, occa- 
sionally burst into a flame, and then died away again. 

Adrian had a great taste for architecture, and the repose 
which the Empire enjoyed during his reign allowed him 
to turn his attention to this favorite pursuit. Some of the 
most wonderful ruins of antiquity, which have withstood 
the shock of centuries, bear the stamp of his pride and 
prodigality. The Tiber, the Danube, the Rhine, and the 
Tyne in England, still bear on their banks the mouldering 



92 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ruins of bridges and tombs, castles and fortifications, which 
look down on the mighty rivers that flow as regularly and 
majestically as time itself, ever young in the vitality of na- 
ture. Of all the Roman Emperors, the name of Adrian is 
the most familiar to the pilgrim who visits the Eternal City. 
The stranger, after arriving in Rome, on his way to the 
Church of St. Peter, the greatest wonder of modern art, 
crosses the bridge and passes under the Castle of St. An- 
gelo ; these are the two first monuments of antiquity which 
catch his eye — they are the works of Adrian. Centuries 
of war and devastation, and the rains and storms of nearly 
seventeen hundred winters, have shorn the mighty mauso- 
leum of its ornaments, but its massive, indestructible walls 
still serve as a fortress, a prison, and a castle, and, like a 
rock of nature, it looks down on passing generations : for 
centuries yet to come it will stand on the banks of the 
Tiber as a landmark by the stream of time ! 

" Turn to the mole which Adrian reared on high, 
Imperial mimic of old Egypt's piles, 
Colossal copyist of deformity ; 
Whose travelled phantasy from the far Nile's 
Enormous model doomed the artist's toils 
To build for giants, and for his vain earth, 
His shrunken ashes, raise this dome ! How smiles 
The gazer's eye with philosophic mirth, 
To view the huge design that sprung from such a birth ! " 

Childe Harold. 

Over the venerable pile now stands the rainbow of the 
modern covenant — the angel of God sheathing the fiery 
sword of justice. It was erected to commemorate a vision 
given to one of the greatest of the Popes — a meet symbol 
of the most remarkable epoch of Roman history, portraying 
not only the termination of a momentary scourge, but the 
close of the bloody days of persecution , and the com- 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL Y. 93 

mencement of the peaceful reign of the Pontificate for the 
universal benefit of mankind. 

At the time we write, the sun of Rome's golden age had 
passed the meridian, and was in the second or third hour 
ot its decline. Yet the splendor and magnificence of the 
city was beyond description. The tract of level ground 
that expanded like an arena from the Capitol, Quirinal, 
and Pincian Hills to the Tiber, was adorned in its entire 
extent with theatres, hippodromes, places for various war- 
like spectacles and games, with temples, surrounded with 
groves of evergreens, and interwoven one with the other 
by shady walks and velvet lawns ; while monuments and 
trophies of snowy Avhiteness and of every order lined the 
river-side to the water's edge. The history of the city's tri- 
umphs, written in marble and travertine, from the column 
of Duilius, down to the magnificent column which had 
just been finished in memory of the deceased Emperor 
Trajan, presented a scene so fascinating, that Strabo, in his 
description, says it was almost impossible to tear one's eyes 
from beholding it. But towering above all, like an alp of 
marble, rose the mausoleum or tomb of Augustus Caesar, 
where the arms of the Julian family and of many Emperors 
were placed. When any of them were to be deified or 
added to the number of the gods (a ceremony which Adrian 
performed for Trajan), his body was carried with great 
pomp and ceremony on a couch of gold, and placed on 
the summit of a pile of odoriferous wood, and as the flame 
began to ascend towards the corpse, an eagle, fastened 
there for the purpose, was permitted to take wing, that it 
might be regarded by the applauding thousands as the 
genius or "mens divinior " of the Emperor soaring aloft 
to the skies. Whilst we smile with the sarcasm of phi- 
losophy and the knowledge of faith, we are struck with the 
poetry and skill of the benighted past. 



94 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

A triumph was accorded to Trajan for his many victories. 
He was a warlike man, and went himself at the head of 
his legions to the field of battle. It was on his way to 
Armenia he condemned the holy Bishop of Antioch ; and 
his choice of Placidus to conduct the legions to the Syrian 
frontier was because he was threatened with revolution in 
the more important territory of Parthia. He had, there 
fore, resolved, in case war was declared, to go himself in 
person to subdue the enemies of this part of the Empire. 
It happened as he had anticipated, and he went on the ex 
pedition, but he never returned to Rome. He died during 
the campaign. Nevertheless, a triumph was decreed to 
him ; and Adrian, who was one of his. commanding offi- 
cers, being declared by the soldiers his successor, wrote to 
the Senate to intimate that he would in his own person 
represent the deceased conqueror. A triumph was the 
highest ambition of the Romans ; it was the next thing to 
divine honor, and outshone in splendor all other spectacles 
of the city. According to the legal usage, no general was 
entitled to this honor who had not slain five thousand 
enemies of the republic in one battle, and by that victory 
enlarged its territory. But whoever had the fortune to 
have it decreed to him, advanced with the first dawn from 
the Vatican fields at the head of his companions-in-arms to 
the triumphal gate. Here, after a slight repast, he was in- 
vested with the triumphal robes ; the accustomed rites to 
the deities stationed at the gate were performed, and then 
the procession moved along the Via Triumphalis, the 
streets, ranged with altars smoking with incense, being 
thickly strewn with flowers. 

In the beautiful work of Dr. Miley on "Rome under 
Paganism and the Popes," there is a splendid description 
of the procession of the triumph. As there are items in the 
formality of the ceremony to which we must allude just 
now, we will quote his elegant words. 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 95 

" First went musicians of various kinds, singing and 
playing triumphal songs; next were led the oxen to be 
sacrificed, having their horns gilt, and their heads adorned 
with fillets and garlands ; then in carriages were brought 
the spoils taken from the enemy — statues, pictures, plate, 
armor, gold and silver and brass, also golden crowns and 
other gifts sent by the allied and tributary states. The 
titles of the vanquished nations were inscribed on wooden 
frames, on which were borne the images or representations 
of the conquered countries and cities, The captive leaders 
and princes followed in chains, with their children, kindred, 
and courtiers ; after these captives came the lictors or ex- 
ecutioners (having their hatchets or fasces wreathed with 
laurel), followed by a great company of musicians and 
dancers, dressed like satyrs, and crowned with wreaths of 
gold. In the midst of them was a clown clothed in female 
garb, whose business it was with looks and gestures to in- 
sult the vanquished. Next followed a long train of persons 
carrying perfumes. Then came the conqueror, dressed in 
purple and gold, and a crown of laurel on his head, and a 
branch of laurel in his right hand, and in his left an ivory 
sceptre with an eagle on the top. His face was painted 
with vermilion, in like manner as the statue of Jupiter on 
festival days, and a golden ball was suspended from his 
neck, with some amulet in it or magical preservative against 
envy. His chariot, in which he stood erect, glittered with 
gold and was adorned with ivory ; and from the time prob- 
ably of the Tarquins, certainly of Camillus, was usually 
drawn by four white horses, and sometimes by elephants or 
other singular wild animals. He was attended by his re- 
lations, clientage, and a vast concourse of citizens, all in 
white togas. His children used to ride in the chariot 
along with him ; and that he might not be too much elated, 
a slave, carrying a golden crown sparkling with gems, 



96 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

crouched behind him, frequently whispering in his ear, 
1 Remember thou art a man. ' His chariot was followed by 
the consuls and senators on foot; his legati and military 
tribunes or staff- officers commonly rode by his side. The 
victorious army, horse and foot, came last, in martial 
array, crowned with laurel and decorated with the gifts 
they had received for their valor, and chanting their own 
praises and those of the general, whom they sometimes 
assailed with railleries. Shouts of ' Io triumphe ' fre- 
quently bursting from the warrior ranks, and chorused by 
myriads of the Roman people, re-echoed along the Tiber's 
banks among the valleys of the seven hills, and seemed to 
shake the rock-built Capitol itself. 

" Arrived at the Forum, and before his chariot began to 
climb the hill of triumphs, through the crowded temples 
that rose along its acclivities, the conqueror ordered the 
captive kings and chieftains of the vanquished nations to be 
led away by the executioners and put to death in the Ge~ 
tnonium, the horrid dungeon of the Mamertine prison, 
which was at the foot of the Capitol to the right. 

"On reaching the Temple of Jupiter, it was the usage 
for him to wait till informed by the appointed officers that 
his sanguinary orders had been complied with ; and then, 
having offered incense to Jupiter and other gods for his 
successes, he commanded the victims, which were always 
white, from the pastures of Clitumnus, to be sacrificed, and 
deposited his golden diadem in the lap of Jove, to whom 
he also dedicated a great portion of the spoils." (Miley, 
"Rome under Paganism and the Popes," vol. ii. chap. 3.) 

The games and rejoicings of a triumph continued for 
some weeks. They were celebrated in the circus and am- 
phitheatre, games which partook more of the character of a 
scourge than of an amusement, consisting of wholesale im- 
molations of human and animal victims. The expenditure 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. gj 

of the public money on those occasions was enormous : 
nothing was spared which ingenuity or skill could suggest. 
After the popular excitement had subsided, and the panto- 
mime of adulation had sufficiently deified the conqueror, 
some stupendous arch or column was erected to commemo- 
rate through future generations the merits of the hero and 
the triumph of the Roman arms. Some of these monu- 
ments of triumph are still standing amid the ruins of 
Rome, and are undoubtedly the best records we have of 
the magnificence of the ancient city. 

Adrian entered Rome in the borrowed glory of the de- 
ceased Emperor; the shouts of triumph resounded through 
the city ; he deified Trajan from the tomb of Augustus, and 
sent the eagle of his spirit to the liberty of the skies ; he 
dedicated the superb column erected to the conqueror, and 
the arena of the Coliseum was once more reeking with the 
blood of gladiators and victims. During these games more 
than two hundred lions were slaughtered, and an immense 
number of captives and slaves were put to death. 

It was one evening during these celebrations, that word 
was brought to the city that the army of Placidus had 
arrived, and was already on the Appian Way. A new im- 
pulse was given to the rejoicings, and a new triumph and 
procession were prepared for the victorious army. There 
is nothing so calculated to excite a people's enthusiasm and 
joy as the return of its armies from a triumphant campaign. 
Those who remember the day on which the heroes of the 
Crimea landed on the shores of England, can well picture 
the veteran armies of Rome entering the capital in triumph. 
According to custom, the Emperor went out to meet the 
general, and embraced him ; and as the evening was far 
advanced and the sun was already sinking beneath the 
blue Mediterranean, the Emperor gave orders that the army 
should encamp outside the walls for the night, in order to 
9 G 



98 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

enter the city in triumph the next morning. Placidus and 
his family returned with the Emperor to the Palatine, and 
were entertained at a sumptuous banquet. He gave the 
Emperor the history of his campaign, and spoke until a 
late hour of his battles, his conquests, the bravery of his 
two sons, and the extraordinary discovery of his wife and 
family. 

Loud, shrill, and cheerful were the trumpet-blasts that 
roused the sleeping army on the following morning, The 
cup of joy for these poor creatures was full to the brim. 
They knew of no greater reward for years of hardship and 
trial, for the scars and wounds which disabled them for life, 
than the shouts of a brutal and barbarous mob, who hailed 
them along the road of triumph. 

As they poured in through the gates, each of them re- 
ceived a laurel crown, whose freshness and beauty con- 
trasted deeply with the sun-burnt features and tattered gar- 
ments of the veterans. Round their necks and about their 
persons they carried a profusion of tinsel trinkets, which 
they took from the conquered people as ornaments for their 
wives and children. There were wagons drawn by oxen 
laden with spoils, that made the massive pavements of the 
Appian Way creak ; armor, gold and brass ornaments, wild 
animals in cages, and everything that could show the habits 
and manners of the conquered people. The general, to- 
gether with his wife and two sons, was in a gilt chariot, 
drawn by four white horses, in the rear of his army. None 
of the pride and flush of drunken joy that characterized 
the Pagan conqueror was to be seen in the meek counte- 
nance of Placidus. All this rejoicing and gorgeous display 
was to him and his Christian family the funeral pomp that 
led them to their tomb. The king who, on his death-bed, 
had himself invested with his crown and royal robes to 
meet death as a monarch, was a picture of Placidus led in 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 99 

triumph to martyrdom — a tale of the emptiness and in- 
stability of human greatness, often told in the vicissitudes 
of history ! He was silent and recollected ; not even the 
deafening peals of applause from crowds of idle spectators, 
who made his name ring through the palaces and tombs 
that bend over the streets from the Capena gate to the 
Forum, induced him to look up with the smile of joyful 
approbation. He was well aware that in a few moments 
his belief in Christianity would be declared, for he could 
not sacrifice to_the gods. Whilst the procession was 
moving along, a murmur passed through the crowd. They 
asked one another where were the victims? — where the 
captive chiefs ? — where were the slaves usually dragged at 
the chariot-wheels of the conqueror ? — where the wailing 
matrons and daughters of the conquered race to sound the 
mournful music of triumph? Arrived at the Forum, the 
procession halted as usual, and the executioners and keepers 
of the Mamertine prison looked in vain for their victims ; 
it was the first time in the annals of triumph that their axes 
had not been steeped in the blood of heroes, whose only 
crime was that they fought bravely for their homes and 
their countries. They knew nothing of the sublime moral- 
ity that can forgive an enemy. Placidus pardoned the 
moment he had conquered, and instead of dragging help- 
less victims from their country and family, to be immo- 
lated to the demons of Rome, he left his name in the traces 
of his march in love and benediction. 

But now the procession arrived at the entrance to the 
Temple of Jupiter. The priests were waiting in their 
robes, and snow-white oxen, with gilded horns and crowns 
of flowers, were held by the altar. Immense fagots were 
blazing in the heart of the temple to consume the victims, 
and fragrant incense was burning in golden vessels. Pla- 
cidus and his family descended from their chariot and 

LOFC. 



100 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

stepped on one side ; they refused to enter ; they would not 
sacrifice. If an earthquake had shaken the temple to its 
foundations, or a sudden eclipse had darkened the sun, 
there could not have been given a greater shock or surprise 
to the assembled thousands. The news ran like fire in a 
train of powder through the vast crowd. A deep heavy 
murmur, like the swell of the troubled deep breaking on its 
boundaries, rose from the multitudes in the Forum. In- 
dignation and fury were the passions that swayed the mob. 
The demon of Paganism reigned in their hearts, and pity 
and justice and liberty were virtues unknown. From 
shouts of applause with which they hailed Placidus as the 
conqueror, the glory of the Empire, and the beloved of 
the martial god, they now hooted him with groans and 
hisses ; and loudly from the gilded temples of the Capitol 
were echoed the terrible cries of " Death to the Chris- 
tians ! " — " Away with the Christians ! " But the hour 
of another and grander triumph had come for our hero. 
Let us hurry through the dark picture of cruelty and in- 
gratitude that closed his career on this side of the grave, to 
usher in the triumph that was to last for ever. 

The noble general and his family were brought before 
the Emperor. Was Adrian glad to have Placidus brought 
before him as a criminal? Doubtless he looked with a 
jealous eye on the glory, popularity, and real triumph of 
one who, a few months before, was his equal as a com- 
mander of the army, and his acknowledged superior in 
skill and attainments, whilst his own triumph was but a 
mockery — the borrowed plumes of a deceased hero, 
whose panegyric he reluctantly preached from the chariot 
of triumph. Moreover, weak-minded and servile, he 
must have rejoiced in an opportunity of pandering to the 
depraved taste of a cruel and brutal mob, who were accus- 
tomed to look on all authority as usurpation and oppres- 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 10 1 

sion, and who hated Christianity with satanic virulence. 
Like Trajan, he determined to prove his piety toward the 
gods by the public execution of the greatest man in the 
Empire. He received the old chief in the Temple of 
Apollo, and, in a prepared speech, pretended what he 
never felt — sympathy for his folly. When asked by the 
haughty Adrian why he would not sacrifice to the gods, 
Placidus answered, bravely and fearlessly, "I am a Chris- 
tian, and adore only the true God." 

" Whence comes this infatuation ? " asked the Emperor, 
quickly. "Why lose all the glory of thy triumph, and 
bring thy gray hairs to shame ? Dost thou not know that 
I have power to put thee to a miserable death ? ' ' 

Placidus meekly replied, " My body is in your power, 
but my soul belongs to Him who created it. Never shall 
I forget the mercy He has shown me in calling me to the 
knowledge of Himself, and I rejoice to be able to suffer for 
Him. You may command me to lead your legions against 
the enemies of the Empire, but never will I offer sacrifice 
to any other god than the One great and powerful God 
who created all things, stretched out the heavens in their 
glory, decked the earth in its beauty, and created man to 
serve him. He alone is worthy of sacrifice ; all other 
gods are but demons, who deceive men. ' ' 

So also answered his wife and two sons. They bantered 
the Emperor himself for his folly in worshipping senseless 
pieces of marble and wood. In vain did Adrian try prom- 
ises and threats, and all the silly arguments which were 
used in the defence of Paganism. The faithful family were 
inflexible; the eloquence of Placidus was simple, but 
powerful and earnest ; and the palpable defeat of Adrian 
in his attempt to reason with one gifted with the eloquence 
promised to those dragged before earthly tribunals, roused 
kis pride and his cruelty, and the desire of revenge. The 



102 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Coliseum stood but a few paces from them; the games 
were going on ; the criminals and slaves of the Empire 
were the daily victims of its amusements. The condemna- 
tion of Placidus would be a stroke of policy to enhance the 
prosperity of his reign ; it was the fullest -gratification of 
the cruel passions of jealousy and revenge which the demon 
had stirred up in his heart ; he ordered the Christian gen- 
eral and his family to be exposed to the wild beasts in the 
amphitheatre. 

There is a convent of the Sisters of the Visitation now 
erected on the spot where this interview took place, and 
they sing in their office the beautiful and prophetic psalm 
of David, " Quare fremuerunt gentes" &c. — " Why have 
the Gentiles raged, and the people devised vain things ? 
The kings of the earth stood up, and the princes met 
together against the Lord, and against His Christ : Let us 
break their bonds asunder, and let us cast away their yoke 
from us. He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh at them, 
and the Lord shall deride them." (Ps. ii.) How sublime 
the idea suggested by the matin-song of the poor sisters, 
gliding over the silent and ivy-clad ruins of the fallen 
palace of the Caesars, whence came the direful persecu- 
tions of the Church, and all that the powers of darkness, 
impersonated in the impious Caesars of Rome, could do to 
destroy Christianity in its infancy ! 

It is probable that Placidus and his family passed that 
night in the dark and fetid prison of the Mamertirie. This 
was a cell cut out of the solid rock at the foot of the Cap- 
itol. It consisted of two chambers, one over the other, 
which could only be entered by apertures in the ceiling; 
(recently a commodious flight of stairs has been erected.) 
The lower and most gloomy of these chambers was destined 
for persons condemned to death. These prisons have been 
in existence for nearly three thousand years, and with tha 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. IO3 

cloacce, or great sewers of the city, are the most perfect 
monuments of the kingly period. In classical literature 
the prisons are mentioned as the Gemonium or Tullian 
Keep. The historian Sallust, who flourished about fifty 
years before Christ, speaking of Cataline, writes thus : "In 
the prison called the Tullian, there is a place about ten feet 
deep, when you have descended a little to the left. It is 
surrounded on the sides by walls, and is closed above by a 
vaulted roof of stone. The appearance of it, from the filth, 
the darkness, and the smell, is terrific;" Nothing can be 
imagined more horrible or gloomy than this dungeon in 
the days of its- terrors. The light of the sun had never 
entered its dark recess, and its stench and filth generated 
a poisnn fatal to the human frame. Here Jugurtha was 
starved to death ; here Vercingetorix, a Gaulish leader, was 
murdered by order of Julius Caesar ; and Cataline and his 
companions were strangled by order of Cicero. Here the 
wretched Sejanus, the favorite of Tiberius, met a merited 
death ; and here, too, a Jewish leader, named Joras, was 
put to death by order of Vespasian. But it is far more re- 
markable in the annals of the Church for its martyrs and 
Christian heroes than for its antiquity or political history. 
It was in this dreary abode that the Apostle St. Peter 
passed nine months, and converted his jailers Processus 
and Martinianus, and forty-seven others. To this day is 
shown the column to which the Apostle was bound, and 
the spring of water that is said by a pious tradition to have 
miraculously sprung up through the rock that he might 
baptize those whom he converted. It is a strange fact that 
the chair or throne of Pius IX. at the Vatican Council was 
erected over the altar of the martyrs Processus and Martin- 
ianus, who, eighteen hundred and three years ago, led to 
the dark prisons of the Mamertine the first king of the im- 
perishable dynasty of the Papacy. Many holy confessors 



104 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and martyrs have consecrated these prisons by their prayers, 
their tears, and their miracles ; and there are few spots in 
Rome so rich in the sacred treasures of the past, more holy, 
or more attractive, than the Mamertine. It was reserved 
in a special manner for state prisoners and persons of dis- 
tinction ; and hence, although the Acts of the Saint do not 
mention it, we have every reason to presume that Placidus 
and his family passed the night before their martyrdom in 
this horrible dungeon. But faith and the consolations of 
prayer can cast light into the darkest prisons ; no external 
darkness or material affliction can blight the joy of the 
faithful soul. 

Next morning, the 20th of September, a. d. 120, the 
people were hastening in tens of thousands to the Coli- 
seum. They knew what had taken place ; they had heard 
of the condemnation by the Emperor, and surprise and 
indignation at the discovery that the general belonged to 
the hated sect of Christians seemed to be expressed in the 
frown on their darkened features. Had he been an assas- 
sin, or a highway robber, or a political prisoner who had 
plotted the ruin of the Empire, pity would have been mur- 
mured on every lip, a reprieve would have been called for, 
and the mob would have saved him ; but deep and bitter 
must ever be the animosity of the demons who revel in the 
spirit of error and wage war against the truth. A marvel- 
lous and intense hatred of the Catholic Church has ever 
been the characteristic feature of unbelief, from Paganism 
down to every shade of modern Protestantism, and the 
intensity of that hostility may be measured in proportion 
to the total or partial rejection of revelation. 

No nation could be sunk more deeply in idolatry, sen- 
suality, and vice, than the great Empire whose capital has 
been considered the Babylon of impiety spoken of in the 
Apocalypse. " Our wrestling," says St. Paul, "is not 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMILY. 105 

against flesh and blood, but against principalities and 
powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, 
against the spirits of wickedness in the high places," (Eph. 
vi. 12.) It was not in an amphitheatre stained with the 
blood of wild beasts and gladiators, and filled with an excited 
and unfeeling crowd, that the voice of pity or reason could 
be heard ; the impatient clamors of the multitude denounced 
the Christians as the enemies of the gods and men, and the 
public condemnation of the Christian general had already 
rung loudly and repeatedly through the benches of the Coli- 
seum. The coming of the Emperor was announced, the 
buzz of conversation was hushed, and all eyes were turned 
towards the entrance on the side of the Esquiline, which 
was specially reserved for the royal cortege. As soon as 
he entered the amphitheatre, all rose ; the lictors lowered 
their fasces, and the senators and vestals bowed profoundly. 
Shouts of ' l great, " ' ' immortal, ' ' " divine, ' ' resounded from 
every seat. The crowd of spectators was nothing more 
than an assembly of miscreant slaves, who trembled at the 
beck of their rulers. Although the spectators of the Coli- 
seum frequently hated the Emperor as an oppressor and 
a tyrant, yet, in the wild frenzy of fear, they cried out with 
lying tongues that he alone was great and powerful. He 
carried a sceptre of ivory, surmounted with a golden eagle, 
and a slave followed, bearing over his head a crown of 
solid gold and precious stones. As soon as he was seated, 
the shrill blast of a trumpet called for silence and the com- 
mencement of the games. After the procession of the 
unfortunate wretches who were to take part in the cruel 
sport of that day's programme, and the sham fight of the 
gladiators, it was usual to commence with sports of agility 
and skill, but on this day the order was changed. The^ 
crowd called for the condemnation of the Christians, and 
the Emperor gave the order that Placidus and his family 
be exposed to the wild beasts. 



I06 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

They were led into the arena in chains. They were 
silent and rapt in prayer. The editor of the games asked 
them again to sacrifice to the gods ; they refused. The keep- 
ers were told to let in some wild beasts to devour them. A 
death-like stillness reigned around. Every one was struck 
with their fortitude ; no screams of terror, no trembling, 
no supplications for mercy, no heart-rending and frantic 
farewells ; — all was calm and tranquil ; they awaited on 
bended knees with majestic resignation their awful doom. 
The iron doors of the subterranean keeps grated on their 
hinges ; two lions and four bears rushed into the arena. 

They would not touch the martyrs, but gambolled around 
them ; one of the lions endeavored to get his head under 
the foot of Placidus ; the saint permitted it, and a more 
beautiful or thrilling sight was never seen in the arena of 
the Coliseum. The king of the forest voluntarily put him- 
self under the foot of the unarmed old man, and crouched 
down as if with fear and reverence. ' ' Goad the animals ! ' ' 
shouted the enraged Emperor to the keepers. "Goad them 
on ! " " Make them devour ! " rang from every tier, from 
the senators, the vestals, and the maddened populace of the 
upper circles ; but the animals turned on their keepers, and 
drove them from the arena. Other animals were called for, 
but they only served to enhance the scene of triumph, and 
respectfully licked the feet of their intended victims. He 
who made use of an animal to bring Placidus to the light 
of faith, and afterwards to be the instruments of his trial 
and his sorrow, now made them declare His love and pro- 
tection over His servants. 

The indignation and shame of the Pagan Emperor was 
roused to the highest pitch ; his impotent rage and natural 
"cruelty broke forth, and to gratify his brutal passion, he 
commanded the martyrs to be placed in the bronze bull, 
and to be consumed by a slow fire. This was a horrible 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FA MIL Y. 107 

instrument of torture and execution used for the persecution 
of the Christians. It was made in the shape of a bull, and 
could hold several persons at the same time in its hollow 
womb ; when fire was applied beneath, it became an oven, 
and it is not difficult to imagine the excruciating torture a 
slow fire must have caused to its living victims. We find 
from several authorities that this dreadful instrument of 
execution was in use both before and long after the time 
of Adrian, and thus many martyrs were put to death. 

In this way Placidus and his family received their crown. 
Almighty God wished to show it was His will, and not the 
commands of the Emperor, or the instruments of torture, 
that deprived his servants of life, by performing a great 
miracle. After three days the bodies of the Saints were 
taken out in the presence of the Emperor ; no trace of fire 
was to be seen upon them ; they exhaled a beautiful odor, 
and seemed to be lying in a sweet sleep. Their relics were 
laid on the ground for several days, and the whole city 
rushed to see the wonder. As Almighty God does nothing 
in vain, many were converted by this miracle, and became 
fervent Christians. The bodies of the glorious martyrs 
were stolen by the Christians, and were afterwards buried, 
together with the brazen bull in which they suffered, on the 
spot where their martyrdom took place. A beautiful church 
sprung up in the very earliest ages of Christianity over the 
shrine of Eustachius and his family. That divine institution 
which spreads its maternal wings over every sacred deposit 
left in her bosom, has preserved with scrupulous care the 
shrines and relics of the heroes of the past. In the very 
heart of modern Rome there now stands a favorite church, 
which has been rebuilt and repaired several times during 
the last fifteen hundred years, and still commemorates the 
name and preserves the relics of the brave and virtuous 
Placidus. In the same urn lie the hallowed remains of his 



108 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

faithful spouse and children, awaiting the trumpet-call of 
the angel of the last day. 

The Bollandists enter into a long and learned discussion 
concerning the authenticity of the Acts of Eustachius, which 
they give in the original Greek version. Although in the 
above narrative I have endeavored to avoid the monotony 
of isolated facts, and have cast around the romantic history 
of this great Saint an imaginary dress, yet I have substan- 
tially adhered to the facts given in the Acts. The obscurity 
and doubt which the lapse of seventeen centuries, and the 
extraordinary character of the facts recorded, must neces- 
sarily make us hesitate to declare this strange story an in- 
contestable fact. Yet it seems to stand the test of the most 
strict examination. Some of the oldest and most remarkable 
martyrologies mention his extraordinary conversion through 
a stag, and his martyrdom in the brazen bull. St. John 
Damascene quotes the history of Eustachius in a sermon he 
preached in a. d. 734. Tradition points out the very spot 
in the Apennines where his extraordinary vision took place. 
A small chapel was built there in the fourth century, sup- 
posed to have been erected by the order of Constantine, 
whose first care, after his conversion and triumph, was to 
dedicate and preserve the shrines of the early Church. A 
rude mosaic of the fourth century, representing a stag, with 
a figure between its horns, and other events in the life of 
Eustachius, was removed from this little church, and is still 
preserved in the Kircherian Collection. The learned and 
trustworthy Baronius, after a close examination of the Acts, 
can only use these words: "Putamus ta?nen eis multa super- 
addita esse," An. 120 — ("We think, however, many 
things have been added to them.") The authors of the 
Bollandist, however, seem to lean to their probability. 

It is useless and absurd to ask why Almighty God used 
these extraordinary means for the conversion of Placidus. 



THE ROMAN GENERAL AND HIS FAMIL V. IO9 

There are enigmas in the dispensations of the divine favors 
that can be solved only by the illumined intelligence of the 
beatified vision. You may as well ask why St. Paul was 
converted on the road to Damascus and not in the city, and 
why made a vessel of election before so many others more 
deserving ? Why did our blessed Lord perform one of His 
greatest miracles with clay moistened with spittle ? Why 
did He make a poor simple fisherman the head of His 
Church ? There are things written in the sacred records 
of revelation more extraordinary than anything in the above 
narrative. Around us, in every moment of our existence, 
and in every portion of the Church of God, there are super- 
natural interpositions of mercy and love — miracles, if you 
wish to call them — that no human intelligence can under- 
stand. It is the height of pride, and the first mark of in- 
fidelity, to scoff at the works of God because they appear 
strange. 

Who shall set limits to the power or the love of God ? 
He who has not the humility and simplicity of faith. Al- 
though we are not bound under the pain of anathema to 
accept all that is recorded in the lives of the saints, yet we are 
not prepared to say that they are nothing but romances and 
idle tales. But some of them are, you will add. It may be 
so, but it is difficult to name them. The moment you come 
to examine any one of those strange lives that the Church 
has put under the seal of her recommendation, you are 
driven back with a storm of proofs and authority that make 
you ashamed of your doubt. We have tried it, and we 
speak from experience ; there is no fair and honest student 
of history who will not acknowledge the same. But there 
are many ignorant and conceited persons in the world, who 
look at everything through the colored glasses of prejudice ; 
all that is strange, consoling, or terrific in the sacred annals 
of the past are to them but glimpses from the regions of 



no 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



fancy, and are condemned with the smile of sarcasm ; their 
faith, their past, and their future is nought but tinsel, sha- 
dow, and unreality. 1 

1 We can scarcely give the reader a better proof of the authenticity 
of these Acts than by referring him to the sanction given to them by 
the Church ; for in the oldest editions of the Roman Breviary, the les- 
sons for the feast of the 20th of September give this strange tale in an 
abbreviated form. We will quote the Latin text, that the reader may 
see the main facts of this tale are perfectly historical : 

' ' Eustachius, qui et Placidus, genere, opibus et militari gloria inter 
Romanos insignis, sub Trajano Imperatore magistri militum titulum 
meruit ; cum vero sese aliquando in venatione exerceret, ac fugientem 
mirse magnitudinis cervum insequeretur, vidit repente inter consistentis 
ferae cornua excelsam atque fulgentem Christi Domini e cruce pendentis 
imaginem, cujus voce ad immortalis vitse prsedam invitatus, una cum 
uxore Theopista, ac duobus parvulis filiis, Agapito et Theopisto, Chris- 
tianas militise nomen dedit. 

" Mox ad visionis pristinse locum, sicut ei Dominus prseceperat, re- 
gressus, ilium praenuntiantem audivit quanta sibi deinceps pro ejus 
gloria perferenda essent. Quo circa incredibiles calamitates mira pa- 
tientia perpessus, brevi in summam egestatem redactus est. Cumque 
clam se subducere cogeretur, in itinere conjugem primum, deinde etiam 
liberos, sibi miserabiliter ereptos ingemuit. Tantis obvolutus serumnis 
in regione longinqua vilicum agens longo tempore dilituit; donee coe- 
lesti voce recreatus ac nova occasione a Trajano conquisitus iterum bello 
prseficitur. 

" Ilia in expeditione, liberis simul cum uxore insperato receptis, 
victor Urbem ingenti omnium gratulatione ingreditur. Sed paulo post 
inanibus diis pro parta victoria sacrificare jussus, constantissime renuit. 
Cumque variis artibus ad Christi fidem ejurandam frustra tentaretur una 
cum uxore et liberis leonibus objicitur. Horum mansuetudine concitatus, 
imperator seneum in taurum subjectis flammis candentem eos immitti 
jubet, ubi divinis in laudibus consummato martyrio, duodecimo Kalen- 
das Octobris ad sempiternam felicitatem convolarunt. Quorum illsesa 
corpora religiose a fidelibus sepulta, postmodum ad ecclesiam, eorum 
nomine erectam, honorifice translata sunt." 




CHAPTER VIII. 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 




BOUT twenty years after the martyrdom of 
Placidus, and in the reign of the same Adrian, 
we have records of another extraordinary scene 
in the Coliseum. We have given the title of 
"young bishop " to our present notice, for our hero was 
but twenty years of age when he wore the mitre. He was 
a noble Roman youth of consular rank ; he had a saintly 
mother, who was a convert of the great Apostle St. Paul, 
and afterwards suffered martyrdom with her son. He was 
called Eleutherius. Brought up under the care of his 
pious mother and the holy Pope Anaclete, he made rapid 
progress in the science of the saints. So great was his piety 
and innocence of life, that, at the age of sixteen, he was 
made deacon ; at eighteen he was ordained priest, and was 
consecrated by the hands of the Pope himself for the see 
of Aquileia (Venice) at the age of twenty. 

The preaching and miracles of the youthful Bishop were 
reaping a fruitful harvest of souls, and his name was carried 
on the wings of fame to the ears of Adrian. The hypo- 
critical policy of the Emperor was to show his piety to the 
gods by persecuting the most noted among the Christians. 
Having heard of Eleutherius on his return for the last time 



112 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM, 

from the East, he sent one of his generals, named Felix, 
with two hundred men, to seize the Bishop and bring him 
to Rome. When Felix arrived with his soldiers, he found 
Eleutherius in his church, preaching to a great concourse 
of people. He drew up his soldiers in guard around the 
church, while he and a few of the most trusty entered to 
seize the saint. No sooner had Felix entered the church 
than the grace of God entered his heart. He was struck 
with the solemnity of the scene. The silence and devo- 
tion of the Christians assembled in the temple of the Most 
High, the heavenly light that shone round the Bishop, the 
unction and eloquence with which he spoke, made the 
Pagan soldier stand rivetted to the ground in awe and re- 
verence. . He waited till the sermon was over ; but instead 
of rushing on the defenceless servant of Christ to drag him 
to martyrdom, he was seen kneeling in the centre of the 
church, praying to the true God. The people were sur- 
prised, and the soldiers looked at each other in amazement. 
The first to rouse him from his thoughts was the Bishop, 
who touched him on the shoulder, and said to him : 
"Rise, Felix; I know what brought thee hither; it is the 
will of God that I should go with thee to glorify His 
name." The general awoke, as if from a beautiful dream, 
and proclaimed his belief in the God of the Christians. 

On the journey to Rome, when they came up to a large 
river (probably the Po), they halted at a shady place on its 
banks. Eleutherius, whose heart burned with zeal and 
love, seized every opportunity of preaching the gospel and 
saving souls. Gathering the little band around him, he 
spoke at great length of the Christian faith. His fervor 
and eloquence not only convinced them, but drew tears 
from many of the rough and benighted soldiers who heard 
him; and when he had ceased speaking, Felix cried out 
aloud, "I will not eat until I am baptized." The holy 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 113 

Bishop having further instructed him, baptized him and 
some of the soldiers before they left the banks of the 
river. 

When they arrived in Rome, the Emperor ordered Eleu- 
therius to be brought before him. He was led to one of 
the halls in the palace on the Palatine, where Adrian had 
his throne erected. When the martyr stood before him, 
Adrian was struck with his beauty and modesty ; a peculiar 
sweetness of countenance, blended with nobility and ma- 
jesty, forced the Pagan persecutors to look on the servant 
of Christ with a feeling almost amounting to reverential 
awe. The Emperor was well aware that the father of Eleu- 
therius had thrice borne the consular dignity under his own 
reign, and he saw in the victim before him every induce- 
ment to mercy and compassion that wealth, rank, and 
talent could offer. He addressed him mildly at first, and 
seemed rather to conciliate and bribe him with the promise 
of his friendship and a position in the imperial palace ) but 
finding the noble youth immovable in his profession of 
Christianity, he gave vent to all the rage that pride and the 
devil could raise in his soul. The Acts of the martyr give 
a portion of the conversation that passed at this interview ; 
it is so beautiful and touching we will translate it. 

" The Emperor said, ' How is it that you, such an illus- 
trious man, could give yourself to such a foolish supersti- 
tion as to believe in a God who was crucified by men ? ' 

" Eleutherius was silent. Again the Emperor addressed 
him, and said, ' Answer the question I ask you ; why do 
you give yourself to the slavery of superstition, and serve 
a man that is dead, and who died the miserable death of a 
criminal ? ' 

" Eleutherius, looking up towards heaven, and making 
the sign of the cross, said : ' True liberty is only to be 
found in the service of the Creator of heaven and earth.' 
10* H 



114 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

"Adrian in a milder tone said,. ' Obey my commands, 
and I will give you a post of honor in my own palace.' 

" 'Thy words/ said Eleutherius, ' are poisoned with de- 
ceit and bitterness.' " (Bollandists, 18th April.) 

Adrian was enraged at this answer, and ordered the cop- 
per bed to be prepared for the servant of God. This was 
an instrument of torture greatly in use at this period of 
persecution. It may be better understood by calling it a 
large gridiron. It consisted of several cross bars of brass 
or copper, supported by feet about nine inches from the 
ground ; underneath was placed fire to consume the mar- 
tyrs. It is a strange fact, however, that Almighty God per- 
mitted very few martyrs to meet death by this terrible in- 
strument. 1 Eleutherius will not be its victim. 

It was ordained by the laws of Augustus, that the execu- 
tion of criminals and malefactors should be public, and 
that a crier should announce to the people the crimes which 
brought the offender to his miserable end. This law, 
which was wisely destined to deter others from the perpe- 
tration of similar crimes, was in practice in the time of 
Adrian. Although it became arbitrary in its application 
under the rule of some of the tyrants who were permitted 
to disgrace the throne of Augustus, yet in the case of Chris- 
tians it was enforced even beyond the limits of its require- 
ments. Christianity was the greatest crime against the 
state ; a man might be accused of murder, conspiracy, or 
robbery, and he would escape with a light punishment, or 
be condemned to fight for his life with the gladiators in the 
Coliseum ; but it seems to have been only against Christians 
that all the horrors of Pagan cruelty were directed. 

1 The most illustrious martyr who won his crown in this way was St. 
Laurence, who suffered in 261, under Valerian. The gridiron on 
which he suffered, which was made of iron, and not copper, is still 
preserved in the Church of St. Lorenzo in Lucina, in Rome. 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 115 

In consequence of this law, a crier was sent through the 
city to announce the sentence pronounced by the Emperor 
on the Bishop Eleutherius. An immense crowd assembled. 
The Acts say the whole people of Rome hastened to wit- 
ness the execution. 1 The great God whom they knew not 
was inviting them to recognize His power, and serve Him 
instead of idols. When the fire was kindled, and was blaz- 
ing furiously round the copper bed, the martyr was stripped 
and lifted by the rough hands of the soldiers to his bed of 
torture. Never did the foot-sore pilgrim cast his wearied 
limbs in repose on the mossy bank with more ease and re- 
freshment, than Eleutherius did on his bed of fire ; the 
elements of nature are the creatures of God — they obey 
when He commands. After the lapse of an hour, during 
which he remained chained to the gridiron, unburnt, and 
without even a hair of his head being singed, he was liber- 
ated ; and seizing the favorable moment, he raised his 
voice and preached an eloquent sermon to the Romans 
whom curiosity had gathered around. "Romans," cried 
out the martyr, "listen to me. Great and true is the 
Omnipotent God. There is no other God than He who 
was preached to you by the Apostles Peter and Paul, 
through whom so many cures and miracles were worked 
among you, through whom was defeated the impious Simon 
Magus, and through whom were broken to pieces the deaf 
and dumb idols such as your Emperor adores." 

Adrian, who was listening, foamed with rage, and 
ordered another and still more terrible instrument of tor- 
ture to be prepared for Eleutherius. This was an enor- 
mous frying-pan filled with oil and pitch, and placed over 
an immense fire. Whilst the composition in the caldron 
was foaming and seething with heat, the Emperor said 

1 " Omnis populus Romanus cuccurrit ad hoc spectaculum certa- 
minis." — Bollandists, 18th April. 



Il6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

once more to the holy youth, "Now, at least, take pity on 
your youth and nobility, and do not any longer incur the 
anger of the gods, or you will soon be like that burning 
oil." Eleutherius laughed at the threat of the Emperor. 
"I wonder," he said to him, "that you, who know so 
much, have never heard of the three young men cast into 
the fiery furnace of Babylon. The flames of the fire rose 
to forty-seven cubits. In the midst of this fire they sang 
and rejoiced, for there walked in the midst of them the 
Son of the God whom I adore, whose unworthy priest I 
am, who has never abandoned me from my infancy." 1 
Having said this, he made the sign of the cross, and sprang 
towards the boiling pan. The moment he placed his hand 
on it, the fire was extinguished, and the foaming mass of 
oil and pitch became cold and solid ; and the holy martyr, 
turning towards the Emperor, said, " Now where are your 
threats ? Your fire, your gridiron, and your frying-pan 
have become like a bed of roses to me, and have no power 
to hurt me. O Adrian ! thine eyes are darkened with in- 
credulity, so that thou dost not see the things of God; 
recognize thy folly, do penance for thy misdeeds, and 
weep over thy misfortune that thou hast not hitherto known 
the only great and true Ruler of heaven and earth and all 
things." 

Adrian was not converted by this extraordinary miracle ; 
although it is certain he relaxed the rigor of his persecu- 
tion against the Christians after the death of Eleutherius. 
He must have been astounded at what he saw ; the extra- 
ordinary miracles which were worked by almost every 
Christian who was brought before him, the inefficacy of the 

1 " Cum sis curiosus omnium, miror quomodo non potuisti ad hsec 
pertingere, quod tres pueri Hebrsei missi in caminum flammte arden- 
tis, cujus altitudo cubitis quadraginta novem elata," &c. — Acts, Bol- 
hmdisis, 1 8th April. 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 117 

most dreadful torments he could devise, and the attractive 
sweetness of innocence and virtue which shines even in the 
external deportment of a true Christian, must have opened 
his eyes and raised a doubt in his mind respecting the truth 
of Paganism. Hence it is reported of him by some histo- 
rians, that shortly before his death he had resolved to erect 
a temple to the God of the Christians. 

When Eleutherius had worked the extraordinary miracle 
just mentioned, and addressed him in the sublime and 
fearless language of reproof for his folly, Adrian was not 
able to speak for confusion, and bit his lips with rage. 
There stood near, one of the sycophants of the palace, who 
was the Prefect of the city ; seeing the perplexity and de- 
feat of the Emperor, he said, " Great Emperor, the whole 
world, from east to west, is under your control, and every 
one trembles at your word except this insolent young man. 
Let your Majesty order him to be taken to prison ; I will 
prepare an instrument in which you will see he will not in- 
sult you much longer. To-morrow you will see your 
triumph in my amphitheatre before the whole Roman 
people." x These words brought relief to the baffled Em- 
peror, and he immediately gave orders that Eleutherius 
should be handed over to the Prefect, Corribonus, to be 
treated according to his wish; but the servant of God 
heard what was said, and, filled with a divine inspiration, 
cried out, in 'the hearing of the Emperor, as the soldiers 
were leading him away, "Yes, Corribonus, to-morrow you 
will witness my triumph, which will be the triumph of my 
Lord Jesus Christ." 

Corribonus undertook to defeat the power of the Most 
High. He knew nothing of the great Being against whom 
he was contending. A few hours will show him that mercy 

1 The Prefect of the city was specially in charge of the Coliseum 
and these games. 



II 8 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

is even greater than the attribute of power in the God of 
the Christians; for that mercy threw its mantle around 
him, and, through the prayers of his victim, from a perse- 
cutor he became a vessel of election. He little thought 
the last words of the holy Bishop were a prophecy, in 
which he himself was to take part, and that before the sun 
should set on the morrow he would be singing the eternal 
praises of the great and merciful God of the Christians in 
the bright kingdom of real triumph and bliss. 

The scenes that follow are extremely interesting. We 
have come to one of the most extraordinary sights the old 
walls of the Coliseum have ever witnessed. 

Corribonus left nothing undone to insure the success of 
his undertaking. As the public games were not going on 
at this time, criers were sent through the city to announce 
a special entertainment for the morrow. ■ The fame of the 
invulnerable Christian had spread far and wide ; the grief 
of the baffled Emperor, and the promise of Corribonus to 
prepare a new and terrible machine that was sure to destroy 
the Christians, roused the interest of the people, and on 
the following morning they flocked in thousands to the 
Coliseum. This was arranged by the providence of God, 
that not only the Romans, but the world and future ages, 
might recognize His power and glorify His name. Corri- 
bonus spent some time in devising an instrument of torture. 
The Emperor and the people expected something terrible 
— a machine that would cut its victims into a thousand 
pieces, and scatter them in the air, or a fire that no art 
could extinguish — a death, in fine, the most terrible ever 
witnessed in the arena of the amphitheatre. But the issue 
of his labors was an instrument that expressed indeed 
brutality and ignorance, but no novelty or art. We are 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 119 

tempted to smile when we read of the machine he invented 
to baffle the power of the Most High. It was nothing 
more than an immense boiler with a lid ; in it was to be 
placed oil, pitch, resin, and some nauseous poisonous in- 
gredients ; and then, when a terrible fire had heated the 
mixture to scalding temperature, the martyr was to be 
thrown in, and thus consumed, as he thought, in a moment. 

The sun is already high in the heavens, and the deafen- 
ing shouts from the Coliseum tell us the benches are filled 
with the impatient mob. The immense caldron is placed 
in the middle of the arena, and the burning fagots are 
blazing around it ; the air is impregnated with the fumes 
of the heterogeneous mass, and the thick dark smoke of 
the fetid composition rises slowly to a cloudless sky. Two 
or three men, half naked, and of dark fiendish looks, are 
supplying the fire with fagots, and at intervals stirring up 
the seething and crackling contents of the boiler. The pic- 
ture was like the vision often given to the saints of the hor- 
rors of hell. Around the demons were calling aloud for 
the death of the Christians; there was fire, torment, and 
hatred of God ; what more is there in hell save its eternal 
curse ! 

The Emperor and Prefect arrived, and some games of 
gladiators and bestiaries were witnessed with the usual ex- 
citement and delight. But the great attraction of that day's 
amusement was the smoking caldron in the arena. After 
each contest between the gladiators and the beasts, loud 
shrill voices would ring from the upper benches calling for 
the Christian. The Emperor and Prefect cheerfully yielded 
to the importunities of the people ; and "at the third hour," 
say the Acts, Eleutherius was brought into the arena. He 
looked young, beautiful, and cheerful, as he moved, with 
heavy chains on his hands and feet, towards the tribunal of 
the Emperor and Prefect. When he was brought under 



120 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 






the throne of the Emperor, Corribonus commanded silence 
with his hand, and spoke thus aloud : 

" All nations obey the power of our great Emperor — 
you alone, young man, despise his wishes ; wherefore either 
obey his orders and worship the gods and goddesses whom 
he adores, or, by Jupiter, you will be cast into the boiling 
caldron." These latter words he pronounced with great 
emphasis, and pointed towards the dreadful caldron. He 
had calculated on a certain victory over the martyr, and 
thought he had only to use the threats with which he was 
accustomed to terrify his cowardly slaves. Eleutherius, with- 
out showing any signs of fear or trouble, quietly answered 
the Prefect in this manner: "Corribonus, listen to me; 
you have your king who made you Prefect; I have my 
King who made me Bishop. Now, one of these two must 
conquer, and he who is the conqueror should be adored by 
you and me. If your caldron overcome my faith, then I 
must serve your king ; but if your caldron be overcome by 
my King, you must adore the Lord Jesus Christ." 

Then the lictors seized him and tore off his garments. 
Whilst they were leading him towards the boiler, he prayed 
thus aloud, "O Lord Jesus Christ, Thou art the joy and 
light of all souls who believe in Thee ! Thou knowest that 
all sufferings are pleasing to me on account of Thy name ; 
but to show that the very elements resist those who oppose 
Thee, do not permit me, Thy servant, to be consumed in 
this caldron. ' ' 

He was flung into the burning mass, and the great lid 
was drawn over. 

All was as silent as death in the amphitheatre. The 
people bent forward in breathless suspense ; they expected 
something extraordinary. Another minute passed in silence 
— the fire still raged and the caldron was not dashed to 
pieces ; the martyr must be dead. The Emperor smiled , 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 121 

and Corribonus rubbed his hands in complacent glee at his 
imagined triumph. After a few minutes of suspense, the 
Emperor ordered the lid to be removed to see if anything re- 
mained of the martyr. But all honor and glory to the eternal 
God ! He laughs at His enemies, and sets their machinations 
at naught. Eleutherius was unhurt — not a hair was touched 
— not a fibre in his body was contracted — not a movement 
in his features showed a sensation of pain ; but calm, beau- 
tiful, and collected, he seemed rather to be going through 
his daily devotions in his own little episcopal chapel, than 
floating in a terrible caldron of burning oil before tens of 
thousands of the Roman populace. When he stood erect 
in the arena, a murmur of surprise ran through the amphi- 
theatre. Adrian was fixed to the ground in wonder ; he 
looked at Corribonus with anger flashing in his eyes. But 
at that moment the grace of God entered the heart of Cor- 
ribonus, and rushing towards the Emperor, he addressed 
him with vehemence, "Oh, great Emperor, let us believe 
in this God who protects His servants in this manner ! This 
youth is indeed a priest of the true God. If one of our 
priests of Jupiter, of Juno, or Hercules, were cast into this 
caldron, would their gods save them thus? " 

The words of the Prefect fell like a thunderclap on the 
ears of Adrian. Unconverted in his superstition and hard- 
ened in his impiety ; the sudden change which grace had 
wrought in the heart of Corribonus roused his indignation 
to the highest pitch. 

" What ! " he cried out, after a moment's pause ; " is it 
you, Corribonus, that dare speak thus ? Has the mother 
of this wretch bribed you to betray me ? I have made you 
Prefect ; I have given you gold and silver ; and now you 
turn against me to take part with this hated Christian ! 
Seize him, lictors, and let the caitiff's blood mingle with 
the burning oil of the caldron." 
ii 



122 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

"Hear me for a moment, great Emperor! " cried out 
Corribonus. " The honors and favors you have conferred 
on me have been short-lived and temporal. Whilst I was 
in error I could not see the truth which now shines resplen- 
dent before me. If you wish to scoff at the great God of 
the Christians, and remain a victim of the follies of your 
impiety, look you to it. I, from this moment, believe 
Christ to be the true God. I deny your idols to be gods, 
and I believe in Him, alone great and powerful, whom 
Eleutherius preaches. ' ' 

Adrian stamped the ground with passion, and made a 
sign to the lictors to lead him at once to the arena to be 
executed. 

When the lictors had taken him to the arena, he flung 
himself on his knees before Eleutherius, and thus addressed 
him : " Man of God ! pray for me, I beseech thee, to that 
God whom to-day I have confessed to be alone great ; give 
me that saving sign thou didst give Felix the general, that 
I may brave the torments of the Emperor." 

Eleutherius shed tears of joy. He thanked God in his 
heart for the conversion of Corribonus, and prayed to the 
Almighty to strengthen him to sustain the torments he was 
about to suffer. The Prefect was cast into the very instru- 
ment that he had prepared to destroy Eleutherius ; the lid 
was closed over him, and he was left in the terrible instru- 
ment for several minutes. When the caldron was uncov- 
ered, he was still alive, unhurt, and without pain ; he was 
singing the praises of the true God, whose power and divin- 
ity he no longer doubted ; and although ten minutes had 
not passed since he was a Pagan, yet his faith was as im- 
movable as a mountain. The Emperor, seeing that he 
too escaped the destructive power of the burning caldron, 
ordered the gladiators to dispatch him in the sight of all 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. I23 

the people. 1 The noble Prefect fell in the arena of the 
Coliseum under the eyes and blessing of Eleutherius. His 
prompt and generous response to the calls of grace merited 
for him the peerless crown of martyrdom. The great sacri- 
fice was momentary, yet worth a thousand years of penance. 
Wealth, friends, family were abandoned without a murmur 
or a farewell, and torments and death cheerfully accepted. 
What faith — what confidence — what love is expressed in 
the neophyte's declaration of Christianity! Happy the 
exchange he made ! Would that we, born in the faith 
and grown old in it, could come near him in the brilliant 
mansions of everlasting joy ! 

3- 
When we contemplate the wonderful works of God, how 
must not our mind expand and our heart warm and be ele- 
vated ! Some have said that our reason alone can com- 
prehend everything within the confines of the vast creation, 
and account for all that is not beyond the sky ; but foolish 
and absurd the man that does not recognize the all-present 
influence of the great God. There are mysteries and won- 
ders in nature and grace at every moment passing around 
us that no human intellect can perceive or explain. Strange 
it is that men who are ready to acknowledge the power 
and wonders of God in the material creation, deny Him 
the glory He demands for similar works in the spiritual 
order. There are many in every position of life, among 
Christians and unbelievers, among the educated, the rich 
and the poor, who are unconsciously prejudiced against 
God in the manifestation of His power through men. He 
may cause wonders in the revolving orbits of the heavens ; 
the brute animal, and the very stones of inanimate nature, 

1 " Videns autem imperator quod etiam Corribonvinceret, jussit eum 
in conspectu omnium decollari." — Acts. 



124 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



may become the instruments of the most marvellous effects ; 
but the moment the ordinary laws of nature are suspended 
in favor of our fellow-creatures — in favor of the rational 
being, the highest of the works of God — then there is 
doubt, misgiving, some unaccountable reluctance to believe. 
The most manifest interpositions of the divine power are 
explained away by chance, by hallucination, by skill ; and 
where ocular testimony does not prove the fact, are imme- 
diately denied. This is the case with all the strange things 
that are recorded in the history of the past. When we read 
of a miracle in the lives of the saints we are prepared im- 
mediately to doubt ; perhaps the records that surprise us 
are but inventions to amuse us. Thus some of the most 
consoling and beautiful traits of the paternal providence 
of God for His suffering creatures are cast to the winds as 
incredible as the myths of Paganism. Is there not some 
taint of the corrupt spirit of the world and the devil in the 
proud feeling of contempt and incredulity with which we 
treat the works of God ? Not everything that is said in his- 
tory is true, nor yet is everything false. But there are sa- 
cred and touching records of the trials and triumphs of the 
martyrs preserved in the archives of the Church, and trans- 
mitted to us with her seal and authority ; they record won- 
ders indeed, but neither impossible nor strange if we con- 
sider the exigencies of the terrible days of persecution. It 
would be rash, unfilial, and disrespectful for the children 
of the Church to fling away the acts of her martyrs as idle 
stories simply because they are strange. Why set limits to 
the power or the goodness of God ? 

We return, then, with love and respect to the wonderful 
Acts of St. Eleutherius. We have" still more marvellous 
and thrilling miracles to record. The Coliseum is to be 
again the theatre and the witness of startling events in the 
extraordinary career of this holy martyr. We can scarcely 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 125 

say whether we are more struck with the persistent cruelty 
of the blinded Emperor or the untiring patience of God in 
working wonder after wonder through the youthful and 
saintly Bishop. 

After the death of Corribonus, Eleutherius was sent to 
prison. Adrian tore his purple robe in anger, and retired 
to his imperial saloons to give vent to his impotent rage. 
He summoned his courtiers, and offered a great reward to 
any of them who would suggest how he could get rid of the 
troublesome Christian. The plans suggested were numer- 
ous and cruel, but Adrian selected one which would cause 
less excitement among the people, and which seemed to ren- 
der death inevitable. It was to leave him shut up in a 
loathsome prison, deprived of food and light, until the ex- 
hausted frame could no longer discharge the vital functions. 
He commanded the prison-doors to be locked, and the keys 
to be brought to his own palace, making sure that no 
bribery or treason would rob him of his victim. But stone 
walls and prison bars cannot keep out the Spirit of God. 

His prison was a dark, subterranean cell below the 
level of the city. The only light or air that could come 
into it was through a small hole about the size of a brick 
in one of the angles of the roof. The accumulation of 
dirt, the fetid air, and the horrid darkness make the im- 
agination recoil from the contemplation of the terrible lot 
of being condemned to pass days and nights and weeks in 
prisons such as served for the cruelty and justice of Pagan 
Rome. History teems with harrowing scenes of madness, 
despair, and death, which terminated the career of the vic- 
tims of these dreary dungeons. Some ate the flesh of their 
own arms in hunger, others dashed out their brains in mad- 
ness against the rocky walls of the prison, or strangled 
themselves in despair, whilst their unburied and corrupting 
bodies were left to intensify the horrors of the dungeon for 
u* 



126 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



the next victim of imperial displeasure. But these gloomy 
cells were homes of peace and light to the servants of God. 
Solitude, darkness, and confinement were sources of super- 
natural joy that ravished their souls to pure delight, which 
are the foretaste of the bliss of heaven. 

When the heavy iron doors of the prison were closed on 
Eleutherius, his soul was filled with celestial joy. The 
Spirit of God not* only went down with him into the pit, 
but sent him food every day. Each morning of his con- 
finement, a beautiful little dove would come through the 
narrow crevice that served for light or air, and drop some 
delicate refreshment at the feet of the martyr. 1 When 
fifteen days had passed — days that were happy and 
cheerful to the servant of Christ — the Emperor sent down 
the keys of the prison to see if anything remained of Eleu- 
therius. When it was reported to Adrian that he was still 
alive, and seemed happy and contented with his vile prison, 
the Emperor was once more seized with rage and passion. 
He had Eleutherius brought before him. He expected to 
find the holy youth worn away to a skeleton, and humbled 
and terrified like the wretched Pagan victims who had been 
flung into those prisons but for a few hours. What must 
have been his surprise to find Eleutherius more comely and 
beautiful than ever, — "in flore primse juventutis velut an- 
gelus fulgens," — still immovable in his resolve to worship 
Christ alone, fearlessly confronting the tyrant, and reprov- 
ing him for his impiety^ 

Adrian now ordered the martyr to be tied to a wild 
horse, that he might be dragged over the massive pave- 
ments of the Roman roads, and thus be bruised and broken 
to pieces. The sentence was executed; but the moment 
the horse was left free, an angel loosened the bonds of 

1 " Cumque esset B. Eleutherius in custodia multis diebus cibum non 
accipiens, columba ei cibum portabat ad satietatem," &c. — Acts^ par. 13. 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 127 

Eleutherius, and lifting him up, placed him on the back of 
the horse. 1 Away the animal flew across the Campagna, 
bearing its precious burden on his back, and never stopping 
until it had reached the summit of one of the highest and 
bleakest mountains of the Sabine range of the Apennines. 
The liberty of the mountain-side, the delightful fresh breeze 
that bore around him the odors of a thousand flowers, and 
the exquisite view of the green valleys, formed a great con- 
trast with the horrors of the prison he had just left. 

Whilst he was pouring forth the acknowledgments of his 
grateful heart to the true God, the wild animals gathered 
round him, as if to express their welcome to the holy man 
who was sent to live among them. Eleutherius spent some 
weeks in happy solitude on the mountain, feeding on roots 
and fruits, and singing the praises of God. He longed to 
come to the everlasting gardens of heaven, which he saw 
faintly reflected in the beautiful world around him. But 
Almighty God has still some greater triumphs and trials for 
his faithful servant. 

One day some hunters from Rome were passing over the 
Sabine hills in search of game. They saw at some dis- 
tance a man kneeling in the midst of wild animals ; they 
hurried back to the city to tell of the strange sight; and 
from the description they gave, the people knew it was the 
immortal Eleutherius, who had escaped once more from 
the dreadful fate destined for him by the cruel Emperor. 
If a thunderbolt had split the earth in two, and placed 
Adrian on the brink of the yawning gulf, he could not have 
been more startled than when he heard that his victim was 
still alive. He ordered a commander of the army and a 
thousand men to march at once to the mountains to seize 
Eleutherius. 

1 " Eadem autum hora angelus Domini suscipiens B. Eleutherium 
solvit eum et fecit eum sedere super equum."- — Acts, par. 13. 



: 



128 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

When the soldiers arrived at the spot pointed out by the 
hunters, they found the Saint surrounded by an immense 
troop of wild animals, which seemed to form a body- 
guard around him, and defying the soldiers to come near. 
The Roman soldiers were brave, and fought desperately in 
battle against their fellow-men, but there was something 
supernatural in the scene before them that unnerved them 
and made them cowards. . After much exhortation and in- 
timidation from their general, some of them advanced for- 
ward to seize the Saint, but they would have been instantly 
torn in pieces by the wolves had not Eleutherius ordered 
them in a loud voice to desist. The animals obeyed him 
instantly, and came crouching at his feet as if afraid of 
chastisement. He then ordered them to retire to their 
home in the mountains, and thanked them in the name of 
their common God for the services they had rendered him. 
The troop of wild beasts moved away, and left Eleutherius 
alone with the soldiers. 1 These he gathered around him, 
and addressed in beautiful and powerful language. He 
called on them to recognize the power of the true God, 
whom the very beasts. of the desert obeyed. He showed 
them their folly in adoring a piece of carved marble or 
painted wood, and how He who reigns above can alone 
give eternal life and happiness. Before the sun set on that 
auspicious day, six hundred and eight sturdy warriors from 
the Roman garrison were regenerated in the waters of bap- 
tism. Among the converted there were some captains of 
noble families and favorites of the Emperor. They offered 
to let Eleutherius remain free, and to return to Rome with- 
out him ; but the holy Bishop knew they would only bring 
the indignation of Adrian on themselves, and that thus 

1 " Adjuro vos per nomen Christi Domini ut nullum ex his contin- 
gatis sed unaquseque vestrum ascendat ad locum suum ; ad cujus vocem 
omnes fene cum omni mansuetudine abscesserunt." — Par. 14, &c. 



u\ 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 1 29 

their families would have to suffer a persecution their young 
faith might not be able to endure ; moreover, he was long- 
ing to receive the crown of martyrdom, which he knew by 
inspiration was to come in the end ; he therefore cheer- 
fully accompanied them, to appear once more before the 
hard-hearted and cruel Emperor. The excitement in the 
city when Eleutherius was brought back again was beyond 
description. Not one of the extraordinary scenes we have 
just described was private ; they took place before thou- 
sands of the populace ; they were discussed and talked over 
in every triclinium ; and the loungers of the Forum were 
in constant conversation about the wonderful Christian. 
The cause of the Emperor became their own. There were 
many among the people more wicked and cruel than 
Adrian, and who vied with him in their hatred of Chris- 
tianity. It was not sympathy, but curiosity and indigna- 
tion, that made them flock round the martyr of Jesus 
Christ. Adrian knew well what were the feelings of the 
mob, and wished to pander to them, and hence felt him- 
self obliged to condemn Eleutherius once more to a public 
execution ; yet he felt himself subdued ; his mind was 
changed towards the Christians ; and although the holy 
and youthful Bishop of Aquileia suffered under him, he was 
his last victim. The order is issued ; the people are to as- 
semble again in the Coliseum to witness the execution of 
Eleutherius. The events that passed in the amphitheatre 
on this occasion were strange and terrible, and form a 
grand tragic finale to the wonders of this marvellous history. 

4. 

The morning of the 18th of April, a. t>. 138, must ever 
be memorable in the annals of the great city, not only for 
the passion of one of the greatest of the martyrs, but for 
the death of thousands of people who came to an untimely 

I 



130 THE MARTYRS 0E THE COLISEUM. 

end on this day within the walls of the Coliseum. The 
demons were let loose for an hour in the amphitheatre, and 
they left the indelible stains of their presence in the records 
of blasphemy, cruelty, and bloodshed. Doubtless the evil 
spirits were more annoyed than the Pagan Emperor at the 
constancy of Eleutherius. His miracles and prayers were 
daily swelling the ranks of Christianity, and thousands were 
beginning to fear the name of the true God. The tortures 
and public executions which were intended as intimidations 
to the people were the fruitful source of conversions. They 
gave them ocular evidence of the divinity of Christianity 
— the power and sublimity of its faith, which raised men 
above passion and fear, and enabled them to smile with the 
independence of martyrdom on the most terrible of all the 
catastrophes known to the Pagan — the separation of the 
soul from the body. The blood of the martyrs fructified 
the soil of the Church, and for one that fell, thousands 
were gained. 

On the day that Eleutherius fell under the sword of the 
executioner in the arena of the Coliseum, different emotions 
animated the crowd which witnessed the terrible scene. 
Some were excited by curiosity at the extraordinary miracles 
which were worked in behalf of the holy youth, whilst 
others raged like the furies of hell for the blood of the 
Christians. There were Christians, too, among them, 
glad and proud of their champion, who conferred so much 
honor on the Church and gave so much glory to God. 
Doubtless there were mixed up in the motley crowd some 
of the poor soldiers whom Eleutherius had baptized a few 
days before at the foot of the Sabine hills. How the tears 
of grateful sympathy must have trickled down the sun- 
burnt cheek of the hardy warrior as he saw the angelic 
youth roughly treated by the menials of the Emperor. 
Christianity softens the heart the moment it enters ; it 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 131 

changes the brutal tendencies of the most ferocious nature 
into mildness, simplicity, and love : the Pagan who yester- 
day could bend with delight over scenes of bloodshed and 
cruelty, to-day turns away in horror and disgust. 

The sun is now high in the heavens, and pouring its 
meridian rays in burning splendor over the city. The 
people are hurrying in crowds from every side to their fa- 
vorite amphitheatre. Most of them were present a few 
days before when Eleutherius was cast into the caldron of 
Corribonus, and hoped to see some similar scenes of excite- 
ment and wonder on the present occasion. They will not 
be disappointed. 

The Emperor arrives with all his court. He looks sad 
and anxious. Old age and much travelling have told on his 
robust frame, and he enters feebly and heavily to his crim- 
son couch under the royal dais. He justly fears a repeti- 
tion of his former defeats in contending with the angel of 
God, whom his own cruel heart and the voice of the mob 
brings once more into the arena. 

Elevated by pride to absurd ideas of power, and too 
weak-minded to brook disappointment, he would have 
given half the Empire to get rid of Eleutherius. 

Hark ! the trumpets have sounded — the games are com- 
menced. A few gladiators pass in procession round the 
arena and salute the Emperor with the usual words, " Hail, 
Caesar! Those who are going to die salute thee." Some 
lions and tigers are exhibited, and allowed to frisk about for 
a few moments. The poor captive brutes appreciated the 
light and pure air of heaven when set free for a moment from 
the dark and fetid keeps of the Coliseum. Then the 
trumpet was sounded again, and the gladiators fought — 
some blood was shed — a captive from Thrace has fallen. 

" And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow, 
From the red gash fall heavy, one by one, 



132 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now 
The arena swims around him, he is gone, 
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch 
who won." 

Loud and shrill was the call of the excited spectators for 
the execution of Eleutherius. The order was given, and 
behold the holy youth is brought in in chains ! His lovely, 
angelic features shone more beautiful than ever. He 
looked cheerfully round the crowded benches. Terrific 
yells were succeeded by breathless silence as he moved with 
a firm step towards the centre ; a crier went before him, 
announcing, in a loud voice, "This is "Eleutherius, the 
Christian." A messenger is sent from the Emperor to 
know whether he will sacrifice to the god Jupiter ; but a 
severe, cutting answer about the demons that represented 
Jupiter proved the martyr was as fearless and invincible as 
ever. Adrian ordered some wild beasts to be let out on 
him to devour him. 

One of the subterranean passages was opened, and a 
hyena was sent into the arena. The animal seemed fright- 
ened and ran quickly from side to side ; coming gently to- 
wards the spot where Eleutherius was kneeling, it lay down, 
seeming to be afraid to approach the servant of God. Then 
the keeper, who knew the indignation and disappointment 
of the Emperor, let loose a hungry lion, whose terrific roars 
terrified the people. The king of the forest rushed toward 
Eleutherius, not to tear his tender flesh with his horrid 
claws, but to reverence him and caress him. The noble 
animal crouched before the martyr, and wept like a human 
being. "When the lion was set loose," say the Acts, "he 
ran to the blessed Eleutherius and wept like a father who 
had not seen his son after a long separation, before the 
whole people, and licked his hands and his feet." l 

1 "Dimissus autem leo cucurrit ad B. Eleutherium et, tanquam pater 



THE 1 OUNG BISHOP. 133 

It would be impossible to describe the scene that fol- 
lowed. Some people cried out that he was a magician, 
but the lightning of heaven struck them, and they were 
killed in their seats. Others called for his liberty ; while 
more, in the enthusiasm of the moment, cried out, " Great 
is the God of the Christians ! ' ' The evil spirit had en- 
tered into the worst of the Pagans, and, in maddened 
frenzy, they fell on those who cried out that the God of 
the Christians was great, and murdered them. They were 
attacked in turn by the friends of their victims, and a hor- 
rid scene of bloodshed ensued. The whole amphitheatre 
was in commotion, and nothing was heard but the shouts 
of the infuriated populace, who were tearing each other to 
pieces, mingled with the screams of terrified women and the 
groans of the dying. The Emperor had the trumpet-blast 
sounded shrill and clear to command attention, but to no 
effect ; the carnage went on, and blood was already flow- 
ing from tier to tier. The Emperor at length ordered the 
soldiers to clear the upper benches, and with much diffi- 
culty, and even loss of men, they succeeded in quelling the 
fatal quarrel. 

Eleutherius was all this time on his knees in the arena. 
Many of the people had leaped over the safeguards of the 
amphitheatre, and had gathered round him for protection. 
The wild animals dare not touch them. But the holy mar- 
tyr prayed to the great God to remove him from such re- 
volting and dreadful scenes. His prayer was heard. Al- 
mighty God revealed to him by an interior voice that He 
would allow him to be martyred by the sword. In a rap- 
ture of joy he told some of the persons who had gathered 
round him, that if the Emperor would command him to be 
put to death by the sword, he would succeed. The mes- 

filium post multum tempus videns, ita coram omnibus flebat in con- 
spectu ejus, et manus ejus et pedes ejus lingebat." — No. 16. 
12 



134 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 









sage was taken immediately to Adrian, who, in a paroxysm 
of rage, cried out, " Let him die then by the sword ; he is 
the cause of all this tumult ! ' ' The trumpets were once 
more sounded, and, in the midst of confusion and terror, 
all became silent as the grave ; the spectators bent forward 
with breathless anxiety to see if the lictor would succeed. 
He wields the mighty axe — it falls — Eleutherius is no 
more! His blood flows on the arena — the earth shook, 
and thunder was heard in a cloudless sky. A loud voice 
rung through the vault of heaven, calling Eleutherius to 
eternal bliss. 

Yet he was not the last victim of that terrible day. There 
was another mother of the Machabees in the crowd of spec- 
tators — it was the mother of Eleutherius, She had watched 
with the joy of a true Christian mother all the scenes that 
her brave son had passed through ; and when she saw him 
at length passing triumphantly to his crown, her heart was 
bursting within her with the natural feelings of maternal 
sympathy and religious joy; she almost forgot she was in 
the Coliseum, and in the midst of a Pagan crowd, and 
rushing frantically to the arena, she threw herself on the 
bleeding corpse of her son. A murmur of surprise and pity 
roused the attention of the Emperor, who had not yet left 
the Coliseum. He sent to know who she was, and why she 
came to embrace the body of the martyr. When it was 
reported that she was his mother, and a Christian, and 
wished to die with her son, the cruel and enraged Emperor 
ordered her to be executed. The same axe that brought 
the crown of martyrdom to the son drank the blood of the 
mother. She was executed while embracing the dead body 
of Eleutherius, and their virtuous souls were united in the 
blissful world where separation shall be no more. 

During the night their bodies were stolen by some Chris- 
tians, and buried in a private vineyard outside the Porta 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 1 35 

Salara; they were kept there for some days, and then taken 
to the city of Rieti, where a magnificent church was erected 
in their honor in the reign of Constantine. Innumerable 
miracles were performed by these sacred relics. The holy 
Bishop Eleutherius was more formidable to the devils after 
death than before ; and during the lapse of seventeen cen- 
turies, the poor people who had first the honor of his re- 
mains among them, never lost their devotion, nor called on 
him in vain. The relics of the holy Bishop were subsequently 
removed to Rome, to be distributed among several churches 
that were constantly applying for relics. The principal part 
of the body of St. Anthsia, his mother, is preserved in the 
beautiful little church of St. Andrew on the Quirinal. 

The marvellous history of this Saint was written by two 
brothers, who were eye-witnesses to most of its extraordi- 
nary facts. They conclude their report in these words : 
"These things we, the brothers Eulogius and Theodulus, 
who have been ordained for that purpose, have written ; and 
being ever assisted by his holy admonitions, we have per- 
severed with him, and we have made mention of those things 
which our eyes have seen or our ears have heard," &C. 1 

These Acts, which we have quoted from the Bollandists, 
are preserved in the archives of their church at Rieti. They 
were also written in Greek by another eye-witness, with slight 
alterations ; and by Metaphrastes, whose version is given 
by Surius under the 18th of April. Baronius, in his Martyr- 
ology, mentions the principal facts of his history, and in 
his notes refers to numerous authors who are our best au- 
thorities for the records of the early Church. 

We cannot conclude without saying a word about the 

1 " Haec nos duo fratres, Eulogius et Theodulus, scripsimus qui ab eo 
ordinati sumus et hortationibus ejus adjuti semper cum ipso perseveravi- 
mus ; et ea quae viderunt oculi nostri et audierunt aures nostras nota 
fecimus," etc. 



136 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Emperor Adrian. He left the Coliseum on that terrible 
morning silent and unwell. Even his hardened soul was 
softened, but not converted ; he had learned a lesson which 
deterred him from interfering again with the Christians. 
But, like all the persecutors, he came at length to his hour 
of retribution. It was while in the amphitheatre seeking 
the destruction of the servants of Christ, that his bloated 
frame contracted a loathsome disease, from which he never 
recovered ; and so miserable and wretched did he become, 
that in the end he died of voluntary starvation. He lin- 
gered for a year in the most frightful pain ; he gave himself 
to greater superstition than ever, in the blind hope that his 
idols could restore him. The harpies of imposture gathered 
round him, and extorted immense sums of money under 
pretence of skill or magic ; but his malady increased, and 
his impious spirit was seized with the horrors of despair and 
remorse. The hand that wrote the terrible judgment in 
the hall of Balthassar had already weighed the persecutor 
of the Church, and the terrible sentence was written before 
him, so dreadful in its very anticipation that he thought to 
avoid it by death. He tried to induce some one to kill 
him, but was unsuccessful in the attempt. At length, filled 
with remorse and despair, he refused to take any nourish- 
ment, and died on the 6th of the Ides of July, in the year 
of our Lord 140 (according to Baronius). His death took 
place at Baja, and his body was afterwards removed by 
Antoninus Pius to the immense mausoleum which he raised 
on the banks of the Tiber. That mausoleum still stands in 
massive splendor, like an imperishable ruin, and reminds 
the Christian pilgrim to the Eternal City of the triumph of 
many martyrs, and the blindness of the persecutors of the 
Church. One cannot but contrast the happy lot of Placi- 
dus, and Eleutherius, and the noble souls who were crowned 
with these heroes, with the awful ruin and eternal death of 



THE YOUNG BISHOP. 1 37 

their persecutors. May those souls which are now crowned 
and happy pray for us, to enable us to resist the tyrant pas- 
sions which persecute us, so that, if we have not the happi- 
ness of shedding our blood for Christ, we may at least 
arrive at the martyrdom of self-love, and join them one 
day in the praises of the same God whom we serve and 
love ! 

12* 





CHAPTER IX. 

THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 




I. 

DEI AN had been declared a god. Notwith- 
standing the passions that made him contempti- 
ble, and the cruelty that made him hated, he was 
deified. The soldiers, the people, and the prov- 
inces, that were greatly benefited by his visits and his gen- 
erosity, called for his elevation to divine honors. The 
Senate, which was still the most intelligent body in the Em- 
pire, writhed under his tyranny. On his death-bed he had 
condemned four of them to be executed. Yet the weak, 
degraded Senate consented, and a temple was raised and 
sacrifices offered in his honor. The absurdity of these acts 
would raise a smile, were it not that they involved a terri- 
ble blasphemy against the true God, and make us blush for 
the stupendous degradation of the human race. It became 
fashionable in those days to make gods of the emperors. 
While the burning carcass was being consumed on the 
funeral pile, the surviving family would pay some vile 
wretch to swear he saw the divine spirit ascending to the 
skies. "Wherefore," cries out the great St. Justin in his 
Apology for the Christians, "do you condescend to con- 
secrate to immortality the emperors who die among you, 

'3* 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 39 

producing some one who asseverates that he saw the burn- 
ing Caesar ascend to heaven from the funeral pile ? " * 

A few years after the death of Adrian, tine of the concu- 
bines of Antoninus was declared a goddess ; and Antoni- 
nus himself after his death was worshipped under the guise 
of a bronze statue erected in a magnificent temple in the 
Forum. One of the most imposing ruins of the old Forum 
is the splendid marble portico of this temple, still bearing 
on its ruined entablature the mark of the gilt letters, " Divo 
Antonino et Divse Faustinas. " What wonder is it that the 
Emperor Commodus, a few years later, should be impatient 
for the honors that awaited him after death, and declared 
himself a god while still living, and had sacrifice offered to 
him as the son of Jupiter in the full assembly of the Senate? 
Like the storm-cloud that clings to the mountain, the ter- 
rible sin of idolatry hung for centuries over Pagan Rome, 
and seemed to wrap the ill-fated city in a dark mantle of 
impenetrable gloom : she was the lady clothed in scarlet, 
seated on the seven hills, the Babylon of the Apocalypse. 2 

Pagan historians, and even some Christians, tell us that 
one of the best acts of Adrian was the election of Antoni- 
nus to succeed him in the Empire. His virtues, for a Pa- 
gan, were remarkable, and his blind fanaticism in the wor- 
ship of the gods procured for him the title of Pius. His 
adopted son, Marcus Aurelius, who afterwards succeeded 
him in the command of the Empire, gives him the highest 
character it is possible to express in words. 3 

1 " Porro cur morientes apud vos imperatores semper immortalitati 
consecrare dignamini, proclucentes quempiam qui jurejurando confirmet 
vidisse se e rogo ascendere in coelum ardentem Csesarem ? " 

*" C'est une tradition constante de tous les siecles que le Babylone 
de Saint Jean c'est l'ancienne Rome." — Bossuet, Pref. sur lAjbocal., vii. 

8 These reflections of Marcus Aurelius are classed among the philo- 
sophical works of the past. They are beautifully written, and have a 
great deal of merit. They may be found in nearly all the great libraries. 



140 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

But notwithstanding the fulsome praise that is lavished 
on Antoninus, he stands before us as a persecutor of the 
Church of God. There are stains of cruelty and injustice 
on his character which cannot be effaced by his natural vir- 
tues. When we read of the sufferings of the Christians, 
tortured with inhuman cruelty, and their blood shed in the 
Coliseum, and at the Petra Scelerata, we cannot reconcile 
the horrors of a violent persecution with the character of 
meekness and justice given him by his Pagan successor. 
There have been found records on the marble slabs of the 
Catacombs, that form a sad contrast with the encomiums 
bestowed upon him. Read the following touching inscrip- 
tion rudely carved on the tomb of a martyred child : — 
"Alexander is not dead, but lives beyond the stars ! His 
body lies in this tomb. He suffered under Antoninus Em- 
peror, who changed from indulgence to hatred ; for while 
he was kneeling (Alexander) about to offer the sacrifice 
(of prayer) to the true God, he was led to death. Oh, 
unhappy times ! in which, even at our prayers and at mass, 
we are not safe. What more miserable than life, but what 
more miserable still that in death we cannot be buried by 
our parents and friends. Impious Antoninus ! thy victim 
shines in heaven. He lived a short time, who lived four 
years and ten months." l 

1 " Alexander mortus non est sed vivit super asstra et corpus 
in hoc tumulo quiescit vitam explevit. cum antonino imp. qui 
multum benefitii antevenire previderet pro gratia odium red- 
dit genua enim fletens vero deo sacrificia turus ad supplicia 
ducitur o tempora infausta quibus inter sacra et vota ne in 
cavernis quidem salvari possimus quid miserius vita sed quid 
miserius in morte cum ab amicis et parentibus sepiliri neque 
ant. tandem in cozlo coruscat parum vixit qui vixit iv. x. 
TEMP." — Aringhi, Roma Subter., torn. I. lib. iii. cap. 22. 

The original of this inscription would be a perfect enigma to the in- 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 141 

If Antoninus relaxed the rigor of persecution in the lat- 
ter years of his reign, it was due to the eloquence of St. 
Justin. With apostolic courage and zeal, he reproved the 
Emperor, the Senate, and the people for their injustice in 
shedding the blood of unoffending Christians. He con- 
trasted the innocence, virtue, and sanctity of the Christian 
life with the excesses of Paganism, the absurdity and folly 
of idolatry, and the plurality of gods ; he proclaimed the 
evidences of the divinity of the Christian faith brighter 
than the sun that shone over them, and warned them of the 
terrible account they would have to render, whether they 
wished it or not, to the one great and necessarily supreme 
Being whom they pretended to ignore, or openly despised 
in the persecution of His servants. Antoninus was not un- 
influenced by noble sentiments, and the eloquence and skil- 
ful reasoning of Justin produced a favorable effect upon his 
mind ; the sword of persecution was put back in its scab- 
bard, to await the next tyrant who should wield the sceptre 
of the Caesars. 

Many celebrated Christians fell victims to the persecution 
of Antoninus. The Acts of St. Felicitas tell a touching 
tale of cruelty which shows the virulence of the persecu- 
tion. Two other scenes are accurately described in the 
Acts of the martyrs. One, a young lad from Sardinia, 
named Potitus ; and the other, a bishop, named Alexan- 
der, whose diocese is not known. The story of Potitus is 
replete with wonders ; it has all the romance of the strange 
lives we have already recorded, and is, like them, based on 
the certainty of historical truth, from the unquestionable 
character of its records. The beautiful, the simple, and 
natural, twined here and there with the marvellous, render 

experienced eye. We have preserved some of the inaccuracies of the 
rude original to show the intelligent reader how difficult it is to deci- 
pher some of the inscriptions of the Catacombs. 



142 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

it one of the most interesting of the traditions that hang 
round the venerable walls of the Coliseum. 



The Acts do not mention what was the age of Potitus 
when dragged before the tribunals to glorify God in the 
profession of his faith. From the words used, we infer he 
must have been very young. In one place he is called an 
infant, in another a little boy, and more frequently a boy. 
But, from the custom of those times, a person might be 
called a boy up to his twentieth year, and an infant to ten 
or twelve. Thus we venture to say that Potitus was not 
more than twelve or thirteen when the scenes in his ex- 
traordinary career commenced. 1 His father was a Pagan, 
named Hylas. He was opposed to Christianity, and perse- 
cuted his son on account of his religious principles. How 
the son came to the knowledge of the Christian faith is not 
mentioned ; but the Acts, as we quote them from the Bol- 
landists, commence this interesting record with a touching 
scene between the Pagan father and the Christian child. 

Hylas used entreaties and threats to change the determi- 
nation of the young Potitus to remain a Christian. He 
tried in vain. The boy's mind was illumined by a celestial 
light, and the knowledge and perception of sacred truth 
raised him far above the stupidities of Paganism. The fa- 
ther, finding him inexorable, was angry, and locked him 
up in one of the rooms of his house, telling him he would 
not give him meat or drink until he consented to abandon 
Christianity. ' ' Let us see if your God will help you now, ' ' 
muttered the angry father, as he drew the key from the 
door. He left Potitus locked up all night; but in the 
morning his excited feelings had subsided, and the father's 

1 We have since found in the MS. in Naples that his age was thir- 
teen. 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. ' 1 43 

love, which survives every passion, brought him again to 
the room where his son was confined. He found Potitus 
cheerful and merry \ love, surprise, and curiosity rushed 
through his mind and urged a thousand questions. Assum- 
ing a tone of conciliation and affection, he entered into the 
following conversation with his son. 1 

"Omy son ! I beseech thee, sacrifice to the gods. The 
Emperor Antoninus has issued orders that every one that 
will not sacrifice is to be put to the torture and exposed to 
the wild beasts. How I regret that you are my only child, 
and you so foolish ! ' ' 

' ' But, father, what gods am I to sacrifice to ? What are 
their names ? ' ' 

"You do not know, my child, of Jupiter, Arpha, 2 and 
Minerva ? ' ' 

u Well, indeed, I never heard that God was called Jupi- 
ter, or Arpha, or Minerva. How could He have all these 
names ? O father ! if you only knew how powerful is the 
God of the Christians, who delivered Himself for us and 
saved us, you too would believe in Him. Do you not know, 
father, that a great prophet said, ' All the gods of the Gen- 
tiles are demons? ' ' It was the Lord made the heavens,' 
not Jupiter, nor Arpha, nor Minerva. ' ' 

" Where did you learn all these things? " asked Hylas, 
quickly, and interrupting him. 

"Ah! father," replied Potitus, mildly, "He whom I 

1 We give the conversation from the original, with some slight al- 
terations to meet the idioms of our language. 

2 Arpha is a name seldom met in Pagan mythology. We must re- 
member there were private gods as well as public. In each patrician's 
house there was a chamber called the lararium, in which were placed 
the idols of the family, which were called penates. They consisted 
of statues of every size and shape, and were numbered by several 
hundreds. How strangely blind the poor creatures must have been 1 



144 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

serve speaks through me ; for He has said in His holy gos- 
pel, ' Do not think how or what you will say, for it will be 
given to you in that hour what to say.' " 

" But, my child, do you not fear the punishments that 
are threatened to be inflicted on Christians ? If you are 
brought before Antoninus, what will become of you? 
Those strange doctrines of yours will cause your flesh to be 
torn in pieces by hooks, and you will be eaten up by the 
lions." 

Potitus smiled. A beam of heavenly joy lit up his beau- 
tiful countenance ; drawing nearer to his father, he placed 
his hand on the old man's shoulder, and, looking affection- 
ately at him, said, with much fervor and feeling • 

"Father, you can never frighten me with these things. 
You must know we can do all things in Him who strengthens 
us. Did you ever hear that David alone killed Goliah 
with a stone, and cutting off" his head with his sword, 
showed it to all the people of Israel ? His armor and his 
strength was the name of the Lord. Yes, father," he con- 
tinued, after a momentary pause, " in the name of the Fa- 
ther, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, I am prepared 
to suffer everything for the name of Jesus Christ." 

Potitus made the sign of the cross, and folding his little 
hands together, became rapt in prayer. The father watched 
him in breathless silence. He heard his son speak with a 
feeling of awe he could not account for. The courage, 
the piety, and eloquence of the saintly boy had already 
won his heart, and the supernatural influence of grace which 
Potitus drew down from heaven completed the work of 
his conversion. The holy youth, raising his head, made 
one more appeal to his father ; his words were accompanied 
by the more powerful eloquence of tears, and, with all the 
feeling of his loving heart, he said to his father : 

" O father ! believe in our Lord Jesus Christ, and you 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH 1 45 

will be saved. Those gods you serve have no existence — 
they cannot save you. I will tell you what they are, fa- 
ther ! They are spirits that burn in a dreadful fire which they 
cannot extinguish. How can you be so mad as to worship 
a piece of colored wood, or a statue of marble that cannot 
stir? If it fall, it is broken, and cannot lift itself up. It 
is as lifeless as the clay we tread on, as silent as stones at 
the bottom of the stream ; the venomous reptiles that creep 
on the face of the earth have more power than your idols, 
for they can take your life away. O father ! how can these 
senseless things have power against the great God who 
created everything, who stretched out the heavens in their 
glory, and dressed our earth in all its beauty, who alone 
is powerful, and puts His foot on the head of the dragon 
and the lion ? " 

Another moment and Potitus was locked in the arms of 
his converted father. Their tears flowed in one stream to 
the ground — the tears of innocence and repentance. 

After the conversion of his father, Potitus was admonished 
by an interior call to retire to solitude to prepare for trials 
which Almighty God had in store for him. He imme- 
diately obeyed, and secretly left his father's house, and re- 
paired to the mountains of Epirus. 1 Here he was favored 
with many visions, and was tempted by the devil. Al- 
mighty God sent an angel to inform him that he was to 
suffer martyrdom for the faith, and how and where he was 
to suffer. The angel instructed him how he was to preserve 
himself from the contamination of any vice — how he was 
to fight with the devil and overcome his snares and delu- 
sions ; an advice poor Potitus had very soon to put into 
practice, for before he left the mountain he suffered severe 
temptations and delusions from the wicked spirits. 

1 One version of his life says he was taken in a cloud to the moun- 
tains. " Statim enim nubes dc ccelo rapuit S. Potitum et deposuit 
13 K 



I46 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

On one occasion the demon appeared to him in the 
shape of our Blessed Lord. He seemed so beautiful and 
venerable that the holy youth thought for a moment it 
might be so; but his humility came to his aid, and he 
feared all was not right, for the great Lord would not come 
to an unworthy wretch as he thought himself. " My dear 
Potitus," said the lying spirit, " why do you trouble your 
mind so much with these austerities? You can go back 
now to your father's house and eat and drink ; I have been 
greatly moved by your tears, and I have come to console 
you." Wondering, doubting, and surprised, Potitus could 
only say, "I am a servant of Jesus Christ." Then the 
devil, with all that impudence for which he is remarkable, 
said, "But I am Christ." 

' ' Then, ' ' said Potitus, ' ' come let us pray together. ' ' At 
the same moment he remarked that one of his feet was of a 
peculiar shape, and did not touch the ground, and he re- 
membered what the angel had said to him. Horrified at 
seeing the vision was really the devil, he prayed to God for 
strength. Immediately the devil changed his appearance, 
and became of gigantic stature, with a horrible head. 1 
Potitus took courage, and, breathing on the monster, said, 
"Begone, Satan, for it is written the Lord thy God shalt 
thou adore, and him only shalt thou serve." Then the 
devil changed his shape ; he became like an enormous bull 
bellowing like thunder, and tried to frighten the holy youth. 
But when he made the sign of the cross over the demon, he 
seemed to writhe in great pain, and cried out, " O Potitus, 
send me away ! why torture me with that sign ? Oh, how 
I burn ! " "Swear to me, by the sign by which I have 

! bound you, you will never henceforward annoy any Chris- 

eum in locum quae dicitur Epirus." Also given in the Bollandists, Jan- 
uary 13. 
1 " Magis crevit cubitis quindecim," say the Acts. 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH 147 

tian." The devil consented, and immediately he was set 
free he cried out, " I will go and show my strength among 
the Pagans. I have got possession of the daughter of An- 
toninus, and now I will go into the heart of the Emperor, 
and Gelasius the President, and I will make them kill you 
with the most dreadful torments ; I will persecute you to 
death." "Away, wicked impostor," cried Potitus; "you 
can do nothing but what our Lord Jesus permits. I fear 
not your machinations, but I will go and conquer you in 
the name of the Lord." The devil left blaspheming God. 
When Potitus had spent some time in the solitude of the 
mountain preparing himself by prayer and austerity for the 
mission he was destined for by God, he left his retreat and 
came to the city of Valeria, at that time the principal city 
of Sardinia. He knew no one in the great city, and, wearied 
and hungry, he sat down in the Forum. The people passed 
without mincing him. They were all engaged in their dif- 
ferent avocations of life. His eye was caught with the 
splendor of the beautiful buildings around him. There 
were columns, and temples, and porticos of massive and 
rare marbles ; but he drew sweet reflections from the varied 
scene ; each new beauty or perfection of art which he be- 
held was an additional source of thanksgiving to the good- 
ness of the great Creator who gave man such power over 
dull nature. Yet Potitus saw a terrible cloud hang over 
that scene of magnificence and art. He looked in vain for 
the cross, that raised the people's hopes on high to a better 
world ; he did not see the sacred sign of redemption daz- 
zling in the light of the sun from the highest pinnacles of 
the temples ; the smoke of the impure sacrifice which was 
the abomination of desolation curled in the murky atmos- 
phere, with demons dancing on its wavy circles. Vice and 
immorality of every description raged around, and the 
angelic youth felt a shudder run through him as he recol- 



148 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 






lected he was the only servant of the true God in that vast 
city. Like the diamond, that sparkles with more brilliancy 
beside a duller stone, his peerless soul was the brighter in 
the midst of the impiety that surrounded him, and his 
prayer more powerful before God. Little did the crowds 
that were passing around think the poor boy they saw 
resting on the cold stone bench was, in a few hours, to 
be the apostle of the Most High to bring them to the 
knowledge of eternal salvation. The instruments of the 
greatest designs of God are the humble and lowly things 
of life. 

Whilst our young Saint was musing to himself, and think- 
ing how he could best overthrow the power of darkness that 
hung like a mist over that benighted people, two old men 
advanced in earnest conversation, and sat on the same 
bench that he occupied. He heard the conversation. Al- 
mighty God intended he should. 

" Sad affair for our president ! " said the taller and more 
venerable of the two, as he drew his broad laticlave across 
his shoulders. 

" How is that? " quoth the other ; " have the gods not 
been propitious to our noble Agathonis ? ' ' 

"Thou alone, then, hast not heard how an evil blast 
swept over his house, and struck Quiriaca, his spouse, with 
a loathsome disease. See yonder smoke that is rising from 
the temple of the immortal Jupiter ! It is from the sacrifice 
of three oxen that Agathonis has been offering to propitiate 
the angry gods ; but her terrible disease is increasing, and 
baffles the skill of our best physicians. When I passed yes- 
terday afternoon, sounds of grief were rolling through the 
marble halls of the palace, and slaves were preparing a 
funeral pile in the courtyard." 

" Let us go to the house of our afflicted chief," said the 
other, rising, " and see if the sacrifice that greeted the rising 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 49 

sun has not cheated grim death of its victim." So say- 
ing, the two senators moved towards the house of Aga- 
thonis. 

Potitus heard in the conversation of the old men the call 
of God to proclaim His glory. The powerful name of 
Jesus would cure this sick woman, and many would believe. 
He had scarcely a moment's hesitation in determining how 
to act ; he immediately rose and followed the old men at a 
distance. After passing through one or two of the principal 
streets, they came up to a mansion of princely magnificence ; 
stairs of marble, ornamented with statues of gold and pre- 
cious stone, led to a stately portico surrounded by a snow- 
white cornice carved like lace, and fresh flowers gave their 
sweet perfumes to the air from priceless Etruscan vases. 
The senators entered with the liberty of friends. Potitus, 
who followed close behind, felt he dare not even soil the 
polished marble with his plebeian tread — there is no ad- 
mission for the poor into the palaces of the great. He sat 
down on the steps, and covering his face with his hands, 
prayed that God would manifest His will, and hasten the 
dawn of mercy on this hopeless people. 

While he was rapt in prayer and holy thoughts, a sharp, 
shrill voice from the top of the stairs roused him from his 
reverie. 

"Hallo! young man, what are you doing there? No 
beggars are allowed to sit on those steps." 

Potitus looked up, and saw a eunuch dressed in livery, a 
proud haughty youth, of a thin effeminate form. He 
mildly replied, " Will you give me a drink of water? " 

What more valueless than a few drops of water ? Yet 3 
when given in the name of Him who loves charity above all 
other virtues, they may purchase heaven. 

"It is strange," said the eunuch, "that you come here 
to look for water ; there are fountains of the purest moun* 
13* 



150 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

tain springs on every side of you : I suspect you have some 
other object in view, but I will watch you." 

"Yes," interrupted Potitus, "you are right; I desired 
water, and not water alone, but also your faith in our Lord 
Jesus Christ, that there may be the peace and blessing of 
God in this house." 

The eunuch, wondering at what Potitus said, asked, 
" Who are you? I don't remember to ha^ve seen you in 
this city before ; what 's your name ? " 

"I am a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, who is the 
Redeemer of mankind, who can heal the leper and -the 
paralytic, give sight to the blind, and raise the dead to 
life." 

The eunuch listened with attention, knowing that his 
mistress was afflicted with a mortal leprosy, and quickly 
asked the strange youth. if he could cure leprosy? 

"Yes," answered Potitus; "my Lord would do it 
through me ; for He has said in His gospel, ' Amen ! I say 
to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, you 
shall say to this mountain, Remove from hence hither, and 
it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible to you, ' ' ' 
(Matt, xvii." 19.) 

"Then you can really cure my mistress?" asked the 
eunuch, impatiently. 

"Yes, if she believe I will cure her." 

" She will make you lord of all her wealth." 

"Ah ! friend, I don't desire silver or gold, or riches of 
any kind. I sigh only to unite her soul to Jesus in the light 
and knowledge of faith." 

These last words were not heard by the eunuch ; he had 
fled inside the mansion, and rushing into his mistress's room 
with that liberty which eunuchs enjoyed, recounted in 
breathless haste to the sick matron how a strange youth was 
sitting on the steps of the house who could cure leprosy. 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1$ I 

He was ordered immediately to be admitted to her pres- 
ence. The youth was brought through splendid halls, or- 
namented with naked statues and figures which made him 
close his eyes with holy shame. When he had entered into 
the room where Quiriaca was lying in her loathsome disease, 
he said, "The peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be .with all 
here. ' ' 

The sick lady lay on a crimson couch, attended by two 
or three slaves, holding fresh flowers in their hands, and 
waving beautiful fans to cause a cooling current of air. 
The room was hung with rich tapestry, representing scenes 
from mythology. A beautiful lamp stood in the middle of 
the room, on a marble pedestal of exquisite carving ; near 
the couch there was a table of odoriferous cedar-wood, 
supporting a casket of jewels, a mirror, and a stiletto to 
punish the slaves, all of which were ever within reach of 
the patrician dames of the first centuries. Quiriaca seemed 
advanced in years, but was frightfully disfigured by her dis- 
ease; the extremities of her hands and feet had already 
fallen off, and she was becoming an object of disgust to 
every one forced to serve her. Her internal agony of spirit 
was still worse than her corporeal sufferings. Her pride 
and vanity were stung to the quick ; she saw herself shunned 
by the other matrons of the city, banished from the tri- 
cliniums, and doomed to drag on her miserable existence 
in involuntary solitude and shame. When she heard that 
a strange boy had come who could cure her, she raised her- 
self with intense joy; hope, that had so long been a 
stranger to her breaking heart, returned to console her, and 
the moment the door was opened to usher in Potitus, she 
cried out with animation, " O young man ! cure me, and I 
will believe ! ' ' 

She was struck with the beauty and modesty of the youth ; 
a heavenly sweetness beamed on his countenance, and his 



152 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 




eyes were cast on the ground. Gently raising his head, 
and looking towards the matron, he said, "You must first 
believe, and then you and your whole house shall see the 
good work." 

"Oh, I believe, I believe ! " she cried frantically; "there 
is no other God but yours — do cure me." 

Potitus knelt. All were silent. A number of slaves and 
attendants had now gathered into the room, for the eunuch 
had run to tell them that his mistress was going to be 
cured. After a few moments' pause, Potitus stretched out 
his arms, and turning his eyes towards heaven, prayed thus 
aloud: "O Lord Jesus Christ, King of angels and Re- 
deemer of souls ! Thou hast said to Thy disciples, ' Make 
clean the leper, and raise the dead.' Grant to me, Thy 
servant, that Thy grace may descend on this woman, that 
this people may see Thou art God, and there is no other 
God but Thee." 

He had scarcely finished his prayer, when a light flashed 
on the body of Quiriaca — she was cured. All her deform- 
ities disappeared ; she sprung from her couch, seized the 
mirror ; her skin became fairer than the purest Carrara mar- 
ble, tinted with the blush of the rose. The attendants 
gathered round in wonder, and their exclamations of joy 
and surprise filled the chamber with a confusion of sounds. 
Quiriaca could not contain herself; messengers were dis- 
patched through the city to seek her husband — to call 
friends — to announce the joyful news. A few moments 
and the house, the portico, and the street were filled with 
people, and the miracle was told and re-told by a thousand 
tongues. The Acts say the issue of this miracle was the 
conversion of half the city {media civitatis). 

Potitus remained some time to complete the great work 
God had commenced. But finding too much honor and 
praise was lavished on him, he stole away once more to his 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 153 

favorite retreat on the hills. Almighty God wished him to 
prepare for other and greater wonders. Before leaving the 
city, he sent some of the most trustworthy of his converts 
to Rome, to announce to the holy Pope, Anicetus, the 
blessings God had conferred on the city of Valeria. A 
bishop and some zealous priests were sent to tend the flock ; 
through their exertions the whole country round embraced 
the faith, which they never lost. The city of Valeria, 
however, has long since passed away ; the beautiful but ill- 
kept city of Cagliari stands near its ruins. 



While the events we have just recorded were passing in 
Sardinia, there was a strange scene of confusion and grief 
in the palace of the Cassars at Rome. The only daughter 
of the Emperor Antoninus, a young girl in the bloom of 
childhood, bearing the sweet name of Agnes, was possessed 
by the devil. We dare not investigate the laws that guide 
these terrible judgments of God ; they are wrapt in im- 
penetrable mystery. The child Agnes may have been too 
young to be steeped in moral guilt; her greatest crime 
may have been a love of dress, or a momentary act of dis- 
obedience. Around her were parricides, murderers, adul- 
terers, and wretches of the deepest depravity that can load 
the conscience of man ; yet the lightning of the thunder- 
cloud that blasts the lily may leave untouched the blas- 
phemer. Say not, 'Tis chance — there is no such thing as 
chance with God; 'tis the mysterious embrace of mercy, 
justice, and judgment ! The Divine Spirit strikes with one 
hand and saves with the other. These awful visitations, so 
terrible in themselves, have been invariably the commence- 
. ment of the richest spiritual blessings. Such was the case 
with the daughter of Antoninus. 

The evil spirit so tortured her that she became an object 



154 TtiE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

of terror to all the household. She made the marble halls 
ring with the most terrific screams. At table she was raised 
as if by some invisible hand by the hair, and let /all with 
such violence that all wondered that the bones of her deli- 
cate frame were not broken. One moment calm and tran- 
quil as of yore ; and then a maniac — a fury rushing with 
deadly violence on her attendants, and dashing to pieces 
every ornament within her reach. The imperial palace was 
filled with grief; the royal physicians were baffled, and 
knew neither the disease nor the remedies. In vain the 
pious Emperor offered the daily sacrifice in the temple ; in 
vain he led to the altar of Jupiter victim after victim — 
oxen with gilt horns, and decorated with garlands of flow- 
ers; the devil laughed through the lips of Agnes, and 
gloried in the sacrifices offered to himself. At length the 
Almighty obliged him to tell the Emperor that he would 
not leave the body of his daughter until the holy youth 
Potitus would come, giving directions where he could be 
found, and what he was doing at that moment. Antoninus 
believing this to be a response from his gods, ordered Ge- 
lasius, the president of the city, to go with fifty men to 
seize Potitus, and bring him to Rome. 

A few weeks have passed, and Potitus is standing before 
the Emperor. Curiosity made him anxious to see the man 
who alone could drive the evil spirit from his daughter ; 
he expected to see some hoary magician from the sands 
of Egypt, or some weird gipsy from the banks of the Nile, 
or some high-priest from the provinces who was a favorite 
with the gods. He was surprised to see before him a poor, 
ill-clad youth of thirteen or fourteen years of age; yet 
there shone in his countenance a beauty and a sweetness 
which made the Emperor and all look on him with won- 
dering delight. After a moment's silence, he asked him, 
" Who and what are you? " 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 155 

Potitus mildly replied, " I am a Christian ! " 
"What! a Christian?" exclaimed the Emperor, as if 
he heard something terrible. "Have you not heard the 
orders of the Prince, that all who belong to that hated sect 
must die? " 

"I desire to die," was the meek reply of Potitus. 
Antoninus would have given expression to his animosity 
against the Christians; but the thought of his suffering 
child made him conceal and postpone the resolution he had 
already formed to make the innocent youth before him 
sacrifice or die. He dissembled the tone of his address, 
and by bland insinuations of flattery and reward, he thought 
to gain from the young Christian first the cure of his daugh- 
ter, and then the gratification of that spirit of cruelty and 
fanaticism which has been sarcastically called piety towards 
the gods. 

1 ' I have heard of your great name, ' ' said the deceitful 
Emperor. "Can you cure my child? If you can, I will 
enrich you with boundless wealth. ' ' 

"Why don't your gods cure her? " asked Potitus. 
" How dare you speak so contemptuously tome?" 
A troublesome question to a Roman Emperor, reminding 
him of his weakness, superstition, and pride, was down- 
right contempt. 

"Well," said Potitus; " if I cure your daughter, will 
you believe in the God I believe in ?" 
After a few moments' hesitation, he said, " I will." 
It was a false promise he never intended to keep ; but 
God, who readeth the secrets of hearts, sent a light into 
the soul of Potitus and permitted him to see the hypocrisy 
of the impious Emperor, and the judgment already prepared 
for him as abandoned by God. Looking sternly at Anto- 
ninus, the noble youth spoke with majesty and force. ' ' False 
Emperor ! thou art weighed in the balance and found want- 



156 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ing ; thy heart is hardened and unconverted ; but that those 
who stand around may believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, I 
will free thy daughter from the spirit which torments her — 
let her be brought in." 

The young girl was led in, supported by some attendants. 
She was worn to a skeleton ; her eyes were bloodshot and 
wild ; the fresh bloom of youth had left her cheek ; she 
was so weak she could hardly stand, yet the attendants 
could scarcely force her into the presence of the holy youth. 
She trembled from head to foot, and the moment she came 
in sight of him she screamed, with terror in her voice, "It 
is Potitus ! ' ' He commanded her to be still. He prayed 
for a moment, and then said aloud, " Impious spirit, I 
command thee, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to 
leave this girl, who is one of God's creatures." The devil 
answering, said, "If you drive me hence, I will persecute 
you to death. ' ' But Potitus, not seeming to notice him, 
advanced and breathed on her, and immediately she was 
thrown to the ground with a great shock ; the palace was 
shaken to its foundations, and the Emperor and all the by- 
standers saw a horrid figure, like a dragon, going out 
through the window, leaving in the room an insupportable 
stench of fire and brimstone. Agnes lay on the ground as 
if dead ; but Potitus came towards her, and took her cold, 
thin hand in his, and lifted her on her feet. She was im- 
mediately restored to her senses; her whole appearance 
was changed, as if she had been only wearing a mask ; her 
sunken cheeks became full and rosy ; her beautiful blue 
eyes sparkled once more with innocence and beauty ; her 
hair, too, that hung in careless knots in confusion about 
her, became brilliant and glossy, and fell in charming ring- 
lets on her snowy breast. The touch of the Christian youth 
changed the emaciated and persecuted little Agnes to a child 
as bright and as cheerful as Eve when she first trod on the 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 57 

flowers of Eden ! The demons will never again have power 
over this beautiful child. She is now made for heaven. 
Potitus himself poured the waters of baptism on her head 
before tens of thousands of the Roman people in the arena 
of the Coliseum ; but strange events were first to happen. 

Antoninus was not converted. After embracing his Agnes, 
and convincing himself that the blooming girl before him 
was really his child, he cried out, " This boy is a magician : 
I thank the gods for having cured my daughter. ' ' Potitus, 
who trembled at the blasphemy of the Emperor, cried out 
immediately. "Woe to thee, foolish prince! thou hast 
seen the wonders of God, yet thou wilt not believe. It 
was not thy gods that cured thy daughter, but my Lord 
Jesus Christ." 

"Do you yet persist in this silly and proud language? 
Do you not know that I am the Emperor, and can force you 
to sacrifice, or have you cut in pieces by slow torture, or 
devoured by wild beasts in the amphitheatre ? ' ' 

" I don't fear thee, nor thy cruel threats. My Lord can 
preserve me." 

"It grieves me so see your folly, for you enrage me to 
punish you. ' ' 

"Ah! Antoninus, grieve rather over thyself, for thou 
art preparing for thyself a terrible hell, where thou wilt 
burn with thy father, the devil, who has hardened thy 
heart." 

This was enough to rouse the concealed indignation of 
the Emperor ; and rising from his seat in a fit of passion, 
he ordered two lictors to seize the youth and flog him. 
Notwithstanding the murmurs of pity that broke from 
every one in the room, and the beseeching tears of the 
beautiful Agnes, Potitus was stripped, and beaten with 
heavy sticks nearly to death. The only expression that 
escaped his lips was, " Thanks be to God." Although his 
«4 



158 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

tender flesh was torn and discolored, yet Almighty God 
took away all pain, and the heavy clubs fell like straws on 
his back and shoulders. 1 After they had beaten him thus 
for some time, the Emperor ordered them to stop, that he 
might ask the holy youth to sacrifice to the gods. 

" To what gods? " asked Potitus. 

"Do you then not know Jupiter, and Minerva, and 
Apollo?" 

" Let us see what sort of gods they are, that we may sac- 
rifice to them," said Potitus. 

The Emperor was filled with joy at this reply. He im- 
mediately ordered the youth to be clothed, and led to the 
temple of Apollo, supposing he had conquered the faith 
of Potitus, and induced him to apostatize. A great crowd 
followed them to the temple ; the cure of the Emperor's 
daughter by the strange youth had already passed through 
the city. Some came to see the girl that was cured, and 
others were filled with curiosity about Potitus. Among the 
crowd, which the Acts say amounted to about ten thousand, 2 
there were many Christians who came to pray that God 
would give strength to his servant to glorify His name. 
When they had come up to the splendid temple of Apollo 
on the Palatine, a passage was made in the crowd for the 
Emperor and his attendants, and then came Potitus between 
two lictors. His eyes were cast on the ground — he looked 
at no one, but seemed rapt in thought. That thought was 
prayer. Arrived at the foot of the statue, he knelt and 
folded his hands on his breast. While a terrible silence 
reigned in the crowd, they suddenly saw the statue move 
towards them, and then, with a tremendous crash, fall to the 
ground. It was broken into a thousand pieces, so small 
that they looked more like dust than the fragments of the 

1 " Et nullum dolorem ctedentium sentio." — Acts. 

2 " Erat enim turba hcminum quasi decern millia." — Acts. 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 59 

colossal god. Potitus, who had destroyed the idol, with- 
out stirring hand or foot, by breathing a prayer in his soul, 
sprung cheerfully to his feet, and turning towards the Em- 
peror before all the people, said, "Are these your gods, 
Antoninus ? ' ' 

"Boy! you have deceived me," cried the angry Em- 
peror; "by your magic you have overthrown the god." 

"But if he were a god," said Potitus, sarcastically, 
" could he not defend himself? " 

Confused, defeated, and still hardened, the Emperor 
ordered him to be taken to prison until some terrible in- 
strument of death should be prepared for him. He told the 
guards to put one hundred and twenty pounds weight of 
iron round his neck for fear he might escape. But Al- 
mighty God sent an angel to console him in his prison, 
who touched the heavy weights of iron that hung round 
his neck, and they melted like wax. The guards saw his 
cell lit up with the most beautiful light, and heard the 
sweetest music until daybreak in the morning. 

Antoninus had determined to expose his victim to the 
wild beasts in the Coliseum, but first to gratify his revenge 
by putting him to the torture. He sent criers through the 
city, and ordered the people to meet him in the amphi- 
theatre on the following day. It would seem that the provi- 
dence of God gave strength to the voice of the herald, that 
the entire people, and not a few only, should be witness of 
His power, and the divinity of His Church proved in the 
humble youth He had chosen to represent Him. The fol- 
lowing day the amphitheatre was filled with all classes, 
from the senators down to the soldiers and people. 1 The 
Emperor and all his court was present. By his side was a 
beautiful little girl dressed in white ; — all eyes were fixed 
on her. A loud and deafening shout of congratulation 

1 "Et impletum est amphitheatrum populo." — Acts. 



> l60 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

greeted her as she entered. She thanked them, and moved 
her little hands in recognition of the public sympathy ; the 
girl was Agnes. She is not aware of the part she is to take 
in the spectacle that is coming. From the moment she 
was delivered from her tormentor, she longed to become a 
Christian. She felt such sincere gratitude towards the 
youth who liberated her, that she could have done any- 
thing he wished. The waters of baptism had not yet puri- 
fied her soul, and every throb of her heart beat in real hu- 
man love for him ; her wealth, her affections, herself, were 
all for him, if he would but deign to accept them. She 
was, moreover, convinced of the truth of Christianity. 
Besides the miracle performed in her favor, she was present 
when the statue of Apollo crumbled to pieces at the prayer 
of Potitus, and she immediately asked her stern father to 
allow her to worship the God of the Christians. He re- 
buked her with severity, and threatened to burn her alive 
if .she dared to invoke the name of the true God. The 
brave child had already resolved to leave the palace of her 
father, and live with the Christians in the caves of the 
earth ; but this will not be demanded of her. God has 
taken her in hands : a few minutes more and she will be a 
Christian. 

The scene that passed in the Coliseum is one of the 
strangest we have to record. The amphitheatre was filled. 
Not all applauded the cruel policy of the Emperor ; there 
were thousands present who disapproved of the cruelty and 
fanaticism which condemned the innocent youth to be de- 
voured by the wild beasts. The cries, the hootings, and 
hisses, 1 which were poured from every bench on the hypo- 
critical Emperor proved that his false piety to the gods had 
carried him too far. 

1 It is a strange fact that hissing was used in the Coliseum as a sign 
of displeasure. It is not generally so in the Italian theatres at present. 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. l6l 

The trumpet sounds, and Potitus is led into the arena. 
Half stripped, chained, and surrounded by the lictors, he 
is brought before the Emperor. His arms are folded in 
the form of a cross on his breast; he is rapt in prayer — he 
looks more beautiful than ever. What means the deep 
murmur that rolls like the break of the ocean-billow through 
the vast amphitheatre ? What mean those expressions of 
sympathy and pity so unusual in that temple of the Furies 
— the theatre of immolation and bloodshed ? Antoninus 
understands it well, but piety to his gods urges him on, and 
steels his heart against mercy. Potitus must die. 

When silence was restored, Antoninus said, "Well, 
young man, do you see where you are ? " 

"Yes," answered Potitus, "I am on God's earth." 

" Hah ! you are in my hands now, and I should like to 
see the God that will take you out of them." 

Potitus smiled sarcastically, and quietly said, " Simple- 
ton that you are, Antoninus ! a dog is better than you, for 
it knows more." l 

The Emperor ordered him to be stretched on the rack, 
and fiery torches to be applied to his sides. 

The holy youth was stretched at full length on a wooden 
frame. Ropes were fastened to his hands and feet, and 
joined underneath to a windlass wheel. By every turn of 
this wheel the body of the person is drawn several inches 
beyond its natural length, and when the pressure is too 
severe, the bones start from their sockets, the flesh breaks, 
and the most excruciating torture, and even death, ensue. 
Then, to add to the dreadful pain, lighted flambeaux are 
applied to the sides, so that the tender coating that covers 
the ribs is consumed in a few moments. 

Whilst Potitus was undergoing this torture he seemed full 

1 " Melior est canis quam tu eo quia plus sapit." — Acts, 
14* L 



1 62 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

of joy. The people could not understand it. Through the 
whole of the amphitheatre were heard expressions of " How 
well he bears it! " " What courage, what endurance ! he 
does n't even complain ! " " Surely the God of Peter is 
with that youth ! ' ' 

The Emperor thought he had now at least subdued Poti- 
tus. He ordered him to be taken from the rack, and asked 
him which would he choose — to sacrifice or to die ? Poti- 
tus seemed as if he had been lying on a bed of roses. Al- 
mighty God had nulled all pain, and by a miracle preserved 
his limbs from the slightest deformation. Once more he 
scoffed at the threats of the Emperor, and defied his efforts 
to torture him or take away his life. Antoninus ordered 
some wild beasts to be let loose on him to devour him. 
They came bounding into the arena, but they would not 
touch the Saint ; they gathered round him in respect, and 
lay down on the sand of the arena in different postures, so 
as to form a circle around him. The scene was strange 
and beautiful. Potitus was on his knees in the middle of 
them, and his hands and eyes were raised towards heaven in 
prayer ; the animals seemed to fear to make the least noise 
that might disturb him in his communion with their com- 
mon Lord and Creator. The Emperor was surprised be- 
yond measure, and little Agnes shed tears of joy. The 
people gazed for a few minutes on the strange scene with 
breathless silence ; then, as if by common accord, they 
broke into a shout of applause that rolled like the echo of 
thunder through the arches of the mighty amphitheatre. 
When silence was restored, Potitus rose from his kneeling 
position and moved towards the Emperor ; the animals fol- 
lowed, and kept close to him as if they loved to be in his 
company. Patting a monstrous lion on the head, he said, 
smiling, to the Emperor, ' ' Now, where are your threats ? 
Do you not see there is a God who can deliver me from 
you? "That God is Jesus, whom I serve." 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 63 

Antoninus was humbled, shamed, and maddened. He 
heeded not the question of the holy youth, but commanded 
some gladiators to enter the arena and slay him. A scene 
still more extraordinary than that which we have just de- 
scribed ensued. The gladiators entered to slay Potitus. 
Four brutal wretches gathered round him. They wield their 
swords, but lo ! they are unable to touch him. An angel 
was there to turn their strokes aside, and they fell harm- 
lessly on the air. They labored with all their strength to 
strike him, but to no effect : he stood smiling in the midst 
of them, more like a beautiful phantom than a human being. 
When the gladiators were so wearied that they could not 
wield their swords any longer, they gave up the fruitless 
task, and left the arena amid the hisses and hootings of the 
excited people. 

The scene of wonder is not yet over. The hardened 
heart of the Emperor is darker than ever ; the miracles 
which failed to convince him, excited him to greater rage, 
and, as if a demon sat in his place, he determined to attempt 
again the life of the holy youth. Rejected calls of grace 
deepened the guilt and blindness of the hardened sinner. 
Every new miracle worked by Potitus made him cry out 
more and more, it was by magic and sorcery that he pro- 
duced these wonderful effects. The same spirit characterizes 
unbelief in the present day ; miracles as clear as the light 
of heaven, as incontestable as our own existence, are attri- 
buted to priestcraft, hallucination, or open falsehood. 

There was the greatest commotion among the people. 
Shouts assailed the Emperor from every side. Every one 
seemed to be amazed at his defeat, and the reproaches 
which fell upon his ears drove him to desperation. He had 
another instrument of torture introduced in order to over- 
come Potitus, but this time the tables were completely turned 
on himself, and we have yet to record in this chapter one 



164 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

of the most extraordinary scenes that ever happened in the 
Coliseum. 

The instrument he had now prepared was a pair of pin- 
cers with two large spikes, which were intended to pass 
through the head and meet in the very brain, so that there 
was no possibility of living after the application of this ter- 
rible torture. When the people saw the executioners coming 
into the arena once more, bearing this horrible instrument 
in their hands, they became silent, and leaned forward with 
the most intense anxiety to see the issue. Potitus freely 
offered his head to the executioners. The moment the 
spikes were applied, the holy youth prayed aloud that Al- 
mighty God would remove the instrument of torture from 
him and place it on the head of Antoninus. He had no 
sooner finished his prayer, than the instrument was lifted 
from his head before all the people, and carried by an in- 
visible hand to the head of the Emperor. 1 There was great 
laughter and wonder among the people ; the disorder lasted 
for a considerable time. When they were silent again, they 
heard the Emperor moaning in the most excruciating pain. 
All his attendants had gathered round him, and tried in 
vain to remove the spikes ; he writhed and struggled as if 
in the agonies of death, and the senators and his attendants 
were filled with consternation. At length he cried out, in 
the most agonizing pain, " Oh ! save me, servant of God ! 
save me ! I know your God is powerful. Oh ! free me 
from this terrible pain." Potitus said, " Why don't your 
gods free you, as my Lord Jesus Christ freed me?" But 
Antoninus still cried louder out, " Mercy, young man! 
mercy ! for I am dying." The senators and attendants in 
terror besought the young man to save the Emperor ; little 
Agnes too, in the impulse of filial love, raised her white 
hands in supplication for her father. There was a death- 
1 " Et fixit eum in caput Antontni imperatoris." — Acts. 






THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. l6$ 

like stillness among the people as they watched what was 
passing. Potitus at length, taking compassion on the worth- 
less Emperor, cried out in a loud voice, " Well, I will cure 
him, if he will permit Agnes to become a Christian." He 
assented. Before he had even given the permission, little 
Agnes flew iike a bird through the benches, and rushing 
into the arena, threw herself at the feet of the holy youth, 
breathless and unable to speak with joy. She knelt before 
him, and stretching out her arms, she looked up to him 
with tears flowing down her beautiful countenance, and 
cried out with vehemence, " Oh ! baptize me! baptize 
me!" 

Potitus ordered some one near to bring him water. He 
addressed a few words to the lovely child as she still knelt 
before him, and being convinced of her knowledge of the 
faith, he baptized her before the whole concourse of people. 
The moment the saving waters fell on the forehead of the 
Pagan child, the terrible spikes which were piercing the 
brain of Antoninus were lifted from his head by the same 
invisible hand that took them there, and were flung into 
the arena with violence, bearing the stains of his blood. 
Nothing could be heard but cries of " Great is the God of 
Potitus ! ' ' The Emperor was astounded at what had hap- 
pened ; he seemed like one awakened from a terrible dream ; 
the amphitheatre was swimming round him, and his heart 
beat with fear and anger. He had scarcely .recovered from 
the shock of the terrible pain he had just suffered, when he 
saw Potitus leading Agnes towards him. The demon that 
ruled his perverted spirit urged him to vent still further his 
impotent rage on the holy youth ; but an invisible power 
restrained him, and he was forced to hear Potitus speak. 
They were his last words to the impious Antoninus ; they 
were short, powerful, and prophetic. 

"Antoninus, Emperor of the great Roman people ! lis- 



1 66 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM 



ten to me, a servant of Jesus Christ. I have conquered 
thee in all thou hast prepared for me ; now the scene is 
over. Whilst thou dost persevere in thy impiety, I am not 
to lose my crown ; that crown can only come to me by the 
sword, and in the place that I shall point out. The mercy 
of God has to-day called this child to the knowledge and 
light of truth. Woe to thee, if thou dost interfere with 
her — that moment she will be taken from thee. Call thy 
lictors and let them tarry not. I long to be united to my 
Lord Jesus Christ." Then turning to Agnes, he said, 
" Farewell, my child ! and be faithful to the grace thou 
hast received to-day. ' ' 

The Emperor, who was still maddened by his shame and 
defeat, was delighted at the hope of getting rid of the 
troublesome youth, and ordered the president, Gelasius, to 
see the sentence executed as Potitus wished. He was led 
away from the amphitheatre amid the murmurs of all the 
people, and thus ended one of the most extraordinary 
scenes that ever passed within the walls of the Coliseum. 

The Acts say that about two thousand persons were con- 
verted. All went to their homes from the amphitheatre 
struck with wonder at all they had seen, and filled with the 
greatest sympathy for the powerful but persecuted Chris- 
tians. For days and weeks afterwards those startling scenes 
in the Coliseum were the topic of conversation in the 
lounging rooms of the Baths and the benches of the Forum. 
The Pagans endeavored to explain all their mysteries by 
omnipotent magic, whilst the Christians sang their hymns 
of thanksgiving to the true God for the manifestation of 
His glory. 

A few days afterwards, Gelasius and his troops returned 
with the news of the death of the holy youth. They re- 
ported that when his head was cut off, they saw his soul 
going to heaven in the form of a dove. The precise place 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 67 

of his martyrdom is unknown 3 the Acts mention a place 
called Milianus, in Apulia, but all vestige of such a name 
has been long since lost ; even the river Banus, on whose 
banks the martyrdom is said to have taken place, is not 
known. 1 

Although some doubt may be thrown on the place of his 
martyrdom, there is no question of the authenticity of the 
Acts. They are given in an epitomized form in nearly all 
the martyrologies ; also in Ferrarius Michaelus Monachus, 
Caesar Eugenius Carraciolus, and De Vipera (S.J.), &c. 

The Bollandists give two editions of his life in Acts 
quoted from MSS. preserved in the monastery of St. Mar- 
tin of Tours, and from a MS. preserved in the convent 
erected to his name at Naples by the saintly Bishop Severus. 
In the latter MS. there are some beautiful Latin verses of 
very ancient date, referring to St. Potitus. The following 
are a few stanzas : 

" O Stella Christi fulgida, 
Potite, martyr inclyte, 
Obscura culpae nubila 
A mente nostra discute. 

11 Tu, clarus inter martyres, 
Fulges ut inter sidera 
Sol, ac ut inter Candida 
Ligustra candent lilia. 

" Luces ut ardent lampads, 
Humana lustrans pectora, 
Ut sol per orbem spargens, 
Humana siccans vulnera. 

1 The Roman Martyrology says in Sardinia ; so also Baronius, An. 
154. We are inclined to follow this opinion as the most probable, es- 
pecially as his relics have been found under a church bearing his name 
near Carrliari. 



1 68 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

" Non sic, Potite, cynnama 
Attrita sperant moribus, 
Ut tu modestus florida 
y£tate fragras sgeculo. 

" Post clara mortis funera, 
Illustris inter angelos, 
Tanto refulges lumine 
Quanto per orbem nomine." 

In the eleventh century the relics of this holy martyr 
were discovered, together with others, underneath an old 
church in Sardinia. Although there was no name on the 
sarcophagus, yet there was no mistaking the identity ; for 
beside Potitus was laid the instrument which was applied to 
his head in the Coliseum, and miraculously transferred to 
the head of Antoninus. There was no other martyr of Sar- 
dinia punished in this way. Besides, there was a constant 
tradition that Potitus was buried under that church. It was 
in search of his body that these discoveries were made. Ja- 
cobus Pintus, who gives an account of this discovery in his 
fifth Book "de Christo Crucifixo," says : "In other places 
other sacred bodies were discovered, not without similar 
marks of sanctity and martyrdom, exhaling a most fragrant 
odor. Among the arguments or instruments of martyrdom, 
that especially was remarkable and interesting which was 
found in a larger and more precious sarcophagus ; for, to- 
gether with a great quantity of the bones, there lay the 
spikes that pierced from head to neck ; and although there 
was no epitaph to record the martyr's name, it is well known 
there was no Sardinian martyr who suffered in this way ex- 
cept Potitus, whose relics, as is seen from all the martyr- 
ologies, were brought from Italy into Sardinia." — Bollan- 
dists, i$th January. 

The reader, no doubt, will be anxious to hear something 
of the after-history of Agnes. She was not destined to re- 



THE SARDINIAN YOUTH. 1 69 

ceive the martyr's crown. The few years of her life were 
spent in peace in the imperial palace. 

Antoninus dreaded to interfere with her ; he saw some- 
thing supernatural about his daughter, which made him look 
on her with awe and veneration. Every time she flitted like 
an angel across his path, he thought of the last terrible 
warning given him by Potitus. She was permitted to live 
iu the imperial palace; by her virtues and heroic example, 
she proved the divinity of her faith as perfectly as if she 
were playing with lions in the arena of the Coliseum. She 
passed her days unsullied by the luxury and vanity of the 
Pagan court. Like a freshly culled lily, floating in all its 
beauty and odor on the muddy waters of the Tiber, she was 
carried into the great ocean of eternity without a stain of 
blood or vice on the angelic form that was restored to her 
by the Sardinian Youth. 

15 





CHAPTER X. 

ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 







LEXANDER is the third Bishop whom we find 
to have been exposed to the wild beasts in the 
Coliseum. He seems to have been fired with the 
zeal and love of an Ignatius, and raised to the 
wonderful and supernatural like Eleutherius. His Acts pre- 
sent us with another scene of baffled tyranny and triumph- 
ant grace ; and although we find repeated the same tale of 
wonder and mercy, yet, as with the annual return of spring, 
the flowers have ever new charms and nature new beauties, 
so each well-earned crown that we meet in our path de- 
lights us with its wondrous fragrance and its surpassing 
beauty. Each martyrdom is like a garden decked with all 
the flowers and exhaling all the odors of sanctity and virtue. 
Stern facts only have come down to us through the lapse 
of centuries, yet they are caught up by the imagination like 
rugged cliffs in a mirage, and decorated with all the charms 
of poetry and romance. We might almost imagine that the 
same pen that wrote the biography of the Bible in its rug- 
ged simplicity had been borrowed for the Acts of the Mar- 
tyrs. The great heroes of those remote times had their 
long lives of eight hundred or nine hundred years summed 

170 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. I/I 

up in these simple words, "he lived and died." Thus in 
the Acts of the Martyrs we frequently find short rapid sen- 
tences, and the briefest possible expressions : months, and 
even years sometimes, pass between events that are recorded 
in the same line, and, to a casual reader, they would seem 
to have passed in the same hour. 

(The Acts of Alexander bear a very ancient date ; they 
are simple and beautiful. They do not mention in what 
part of the reign of Antoninus the holy Bishop suffered. 
The Emperor reigned for twenty-three years, and it is 
probable twenty of these passed between the martyrdom of 
Potitus and Alexander. We are inclined to believe that 
Alexander suffered first, although we have accidentally 
placed the Acts of Potitus first. Both are well authenti- 
cated, and both suffered under Antoninus ; their chrono- 
logical position will not interfere with these interesting 
records.) 

Our present sketch commences with a scene in a small 
town in Italy. The Acts introduce Alexander at once as a 
Bishop at his post in the midst of his people, combating 
the powers of darkness and spreading the glad tidings of 
the gospel. His sanctity and zeal, aided by a supernatural 
power of miracles, were fast breaking through the barriers 
of sin and infidelity, and raising the cross of the Crucified 
over the temples of the false gods. 

Alexander was one of those holy men sent by Almighty 
God for the establishment of His Church. His preaching 
was confirmed by the most wonderful miracles ; the pro- 
mise of our Blessed Lord was fulfilled in him, that His 
disciples should perform even greater miracles than He 
himself. One morning, when he was engaged in prayer, he 
was disturbed by a Pagan woman, who came to him wailing 
and crying, for her only son was dead. The poor mother 
had heard of the wonders worked by the Bishop. She was 



172 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



yet a Pagan and unconverted; but in the deep sorrow of 
her disconsolate heart she madly seized the last hope that 
came to her with the name of the powerful Christian, and, 
throwing herself on her knees before him, begged of him 
to call her son back again to life. Alexander heard the 
voice of God calling him to promote His greater glory and 
save innumerable souls. He consoled the weeping mother, 
and bade her return to her house, promising he would fol- 
low immediately. After a few moments spent in prayer, he 
rose up and went to her house. 

The boy had been dead for several hours. He was a 
beautiful child, cut off in the bloom of youth by an acci- 
dent. He left his mother's house that morning full of health 
and spirits, to play with his companions, but in a few hours 
was brought home dead. A large crowd of friends and 
sympathizers had already gathered round the couch on 
which he lay ; some were looking sorrowfully on the calm 
features of the beautiful boy, others were slowly and sol- 
emnly repeating his name, according to the custom of the 
ancients, whilst others cast fresh flowers on his bed. His 
little companions cried lustily, for they loved him much. 
Near his pillow there was one in particular overcome with 
grief, who exclaimed from time to time, in the midst of 
convulsive sobs, ' ' Poor Lucius ! • you say you would become 
a Christian when you'd get big." This was a Christian 
boy who used to serve the Bishop's mass every morning, 
and who afterwards became a priest. 

When Alexander arrived, all became silent, and stood 
aside to allow him to pass. The Christians who were pres- 
ent saw in their saintly Bishop the representative of Him 
who gave joy to the weeping widow outside the gates of 
Nain. He approached the bed, and remained rapt in 
prayer for a moment, then taking the boy's hand, said, in 
a loud voice, " Lucius, arise in the name of the Father, and 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 73 

of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." Immediately the 
eyes moved, the hands and limbs were convulsed ; life, 
which had entered the heart, was sending the vital stream 
through every fibre and vein ; the next moment the boy sat 
erect before the Bishop. His countenance changed from 
the marble tranquillity of death to an expression of terror 
and fright — he seemed to have been awakened from a 
frightful dream. Then a smile of joy lit up his countenance 
when he found himself in the land of the living again, and 
felt the warm kiss of his mother. Whilst greeting his com- 
panions, and receiving the congratulations of wondering 
friends, he suddenly lapsed into his feelings of terror. Put- 
ting his hand to his brow, he used incoherent expressions 
of fright, and speaking to himself, said, "Is it true? Am I 
dreaming ? Where am I ? " Some thought he was still rav- 
ing from the stunning effects of the fall that fractured his 
skull and took away his life, but the holy Bishop advancing 
once more to the couch on which he sat, calmly bade him 
say what he saw. The boy instantly cried out in a hasty 
and excited tone : " Hear me, O parents and friends! I 
was taksn by two Egyptians of frightful looks and full of 
anger; they led me through a gloomy region to the brink 
of a dreadful pit, when there appeared a beautiful young 
man with a shining countenance, who made the whole place 
tremble as if shaken by an earthquake. He cried out in a 
loud voice, ' Let go the boy, for he is called by the servant 
of God, Alexander ! ' and behold I have been brought back 
to my body." Then falling on his knees before Alexander, 
he clasped his hands, and said with great vehemence: "O 
Bishop of God ! baptize me in the name of thy Lord, that 
I may never again see what. I saw this morning." A few 
days passed, and Lucius and fourteen thousand others were 
regenerated in the saving waters of Baptism. 

Rumors of the wonderful doings were brought to Rome. 
15* 



1 7 A 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



Antoninus, who was more a fanatic than a tyrant, sent an 
officer named Cornelianus with a hundred and fifty men to 
seize the Bishop and bring him to Rome. They found 
Alexander preaching to an immense concourse of people. 
A temporary altar had been erected in an open plain, and 
he was surrounded by his faithful flock. Seeing the great 
multitude of people surrounding the Bishop, Cornelianus 
was afraid to seize him ; he remained with his soldiers on 
the outskirts of the crowd until the Bishop had offered the 
Holy Sacrifice. After the celebration of the divine myste- 
ries, the holy pastor turned to his flock and announced to 
them it was the will of God he should go to Rome to suffer 
for the faith and Church of their Divine Master. More sad 
or startling news could not have been given them ; every 
eye was wet with tears ; some cried out loud whilst the 
Bishop was yet speaking. Sublime and eloquent was the 
last warning he gave them ; he poured out all the unction 
of his burning heart, and spake at length of the joys of 
heaven, and the glory of suffering for Jesus Christ. When 
he had given them his last blessing, he paused for a mo- 
ment, and then changing his tone of voice, he said, slowly 
and majestically, " The servants of the Emperor are already 
come to make me a prisoner of Jesus Christ ; I command 
you to allow me to pass without any resistance. He who 
molests one of those men will be an enemy of the Great 
Master who has told us to pray for our enemies." Pointing 
to the crucifixion on the altar, he saic$, " Remain you here 
in prayer before the great model of your patience, whilst I 
go to my crown." He then descended calmly from the 
altar and passed through his flock, who were bathed in tears. 
There were hundreds of stalwart young men in that assem- 
bly, who might have offered effectual opposition to Corne- 
lianus and his soldiers, but their faith and obedience to the 
Bishop tied their hands, and taught them the sublime moral- 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 75 

ity of forbearance. A more touching scene is not recorded 
in the annals of sacred history. Grief, indignation, and all 
the passions of the soul were restrained by the noble power 
of patience Their hearts were breaking to see v heir pastor 
and. their father torn rudely from them as if he were a pub- 
lic malefactor, or an infamous conspirator against the throne 
of the Emperor. The self-possession and bravery of the 
pastor were reflected in the sublime forbearance of the peo- 
ple. The angels of God must have looked down with joy 
on a scene that was the nearest thing on earth to the perfec- 
tion of heaven. Alexander, already a martyr in kis heart, 
as firm as a rock, and as zealous as an apostle, thought 
more of his widowed people than of the racks, the caldrons 
of boiling oil, and the roaring lions he knew were awaiting 
him in Rome ; and giving one last, long, and loving look 
on his weeping children, he raised his eyes, now sparkling 
with tears of affection, towards heaven, and breathed over 
the prostrate crowd this short but loving prayer, " O Lord ! 
I leave them to thee." 

He was accompanied to Rome by one of his priests, 
named Crescentianus. He followed him through all the 
different scenes of his martyrdom, and to him we are in- 
debted for the beautiful Acts from which we are now quot- 
ing. Strange to say, Crescentianus did not say of what city 
Alexander was Bishop, nor have we any documents to indi- 
cate his see. It is generally presumed that it was not far 
from Rome; but from some expressions in the Acts, I am 
inclined to think his see was on the eastern coast of Italy. 

On reaching Rome, Alexander was immediately presented 
to the Emperor. He was surrounded by soldiers, and his 
hands were tied behind his back. Antoninus sat on his 
throne, silent and thoughtful, giving evident signs of unea- 
siness. Perhaps the recollection of past defeats deterred 
him from the risk of additional shame. Well he remem- 



i;6 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



bered the invincible spirit of the Christians, and the extra- 
ordinary power that made them terrible. He felt a super- 
natural awe steal over him when the Bishop appeared ; fear 
calmed the fanaticism of his blind devotion to the worship 
of the gods. He quailed under the steady gaze of his hand- 
cuffed victim, and would have given half his empire to 
purchase his apostasy, to save himself from the anticipated 
opprobrium of another humiliation and defeat. His bi- 
ographers, and even contemporary writers, tell us he was 
not a man of bloodshed or cruelty. He shuddered at the 
horrors of the reigns of Nero and Domitian ; but he felt some 
invisible power urging him on to persecute the Christians. 
Theirs was the only blood .that stained his hands ; they 
were the terror of his dreams by night, the remorse of his 
conscience by day, and the mystery of his life. His inter- 
rogatory of the holy Bishop is a tissue of pride, hypocrisy, 
and cowardice. 

"Are you Alexander," he commenced, in a haughty 
tone, "who is bringing ruin on the East, deceiving men, 
and persuading them to believe in a desperate man who 
was slain by his companions ? If he were God, would he 
have suffered like a man ? ' ' 

"Yes ! He would have suffered as a man," said Alexan- 
der, taking up the last part of the Emperor's address as in- 
volving an attack on the great mystery of the incarnation. 
"It was for that purpose He came down from heaven, 
took on Himself human nature, that He might suffer for 
and redeem the creature He made." 

Antoninus was silent for a moment ; he vainly tried to 
fathom the great mystery contained in the words of the 
Bishop; the brightest Pagan intellect could never grasp the 
sublimity of Catholic truth ; faith is alone the key that 
unlocks its treasures to the mind of fallen man. The Em- 
peror was a philosopher, and thought he knew a great deal, 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 77 

but finding the Christian prisoner before him so familiar 
with things he never heard before, he endeavored to hide 
the blush that mantled his brow, and in a hurried and con- 
fused way resumed his address. 

" I don't want to have much to say to you, young man ; 
but come, deny your God, and offer sacrifice to our deities, 
and I will reward you by giving you an office of honor in 
my own palace ; but if you refuse, I will put you to the 
torture, and your God will not be able to take you out of 
my hands. ' ' 

"Was it to make me worship those dumb stones that you 
brought me here ? ' ' asked the holy martyr, indignantly. 
"Then, Antoninus, if you are resolved to torture me, do 
so at once, for I will always put my trust in Him who 
reigns above ; I will never burn incense to a senseless idol. ' ' 

"Let this insolent man be beaten with rods," said An- 
toninus, angrily; "he does not know to whom he is speak- 
ing. — You have insulted me, who am the ruler of the 
world!" 

Alexander smiled, and said, majestically: "Do not 
boast of thy power. A few days, and thou wilt go where 
thou dost not wish ; thou wilt have less power than the 
worm we crush to death beneath our feet." 

While he was thus speaking, the lictors were untying 
their fasces, and picking out some of the strongest rods 
that guarded the axe. A soldier had approached to tear 
off the garments of the Bishop, when the Emperor, who 
seemed undecided and irresolute, cried out, ' ' Hold, let me 
see ! Take him to prison ; give him four days to think 
over his folly, that he may give up the worship of his 
vanity, and come of his own accord to worship our gods." 

"Look upon the four days as already passed," exclaimed 
the Bishop ; " and do with me now what thou intendest." 

Alexander was led away to prison. He was patient and 
M 



I78 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

cheerful. The horrors of a Roman dungeon were not un- 
known to him, yet there was no expression of reluctance in 
his countenance, not a word escaped his lips indicative of 
fear. . He spoke freely with his guards, and surprised them 
by his indifference. He seemed to consider himself their 
guest, and chatted as freely as if they were accompanying 
him to some delicious suburban villa to pass a few days in 
retirement. When they reached the prison, they pushed 
him rudely in, and drew the heavy bolt across the iron 
door, then grinned sarcastically at each other as if they had 
caught and subdued the wildest lion of the African deserts. 
They little thought the power of the God of the Christians 
could pass through iron doors ; they go to sleep with the 
keys of the prison-door under their pillow, yet in another 
hour will find their prison empty and their victim escaped. 

Poor Crescentianus, the faithful priest of the noble 
Bishop, followed as far as he could prudently go ; but when 
he saw him cast into a gloomy dungeon, and heard the 
door ring as it was closed and the lock grate as the heavy 
bolt was drawn into its marble socket, he was filled with 
grief, and went away from the sad scene with a heavy and 
sorrowful heart. He rambled on through the Forum and 
square and crowded piazzas, unmindful of everything, and 
wrapt in silence and gloom. The noise of the city was irk- 
some ; he longed to find some retired shady spot, where 
he could indulge in the consolation of tears in solitude and 
silence. Thus he strolled on until he passed through the 
gates, and felt the fresh breeze of the Sabine hills. He 
threw himself down under the shade of a large tree, and 
soon fell into a slumber. 

Immediately a strange vision passed before him. He 
thought he saw Alexander kneeling in one corner of his 
loathsome prison ; beside him was an angel of light, who 
joined him in singing alternately the verses of a hymn then 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 79 

commonly in use among the Christians. After this, he saw 
the angel untie his bonds, and lead him toward the door 
of the prison. The heavy door flew open, and they went 
through ; the guards were all asleep, and they passed by 
unnoticed. The angel led him through the Forum, and 
those streets which lead to the Porta Capena. Crescen- 
tianus, still asleep, thought he saw them passing over every 
inch of the ground he had just walked over. They were 
engaged in the most cheerful conversation, and the brilliant 
light that shone from the countenance of the angel made 
everything around brighter than day. The people crossed 
on either side, but seemed not to see them. At length they 
passed under the gate, and every step brought them nearer 
to where he was. He thought he could hear them talking, 
when the angel suddenly stopped, and pointed out where 
he was sleeping, and, singing Alleluia in the most exquisite 
manner, began to rise gradually toward heaven. Alexander 
was riveted to the spot, and remained for a few moments 
gazing in the direction whence the lovely spirit had disap- 
peared. Crescentianus, still in his dream, thought he saw 
the holy Bishop come toward him ; his heart begins to leap 
— now he is nearer — another moment and he sees the 
venerable form of the Bishop bending over him. Starting 
from his dream, Crescentianus awoke, sprung to his feet, 
and cried out, "Alexander ! " 

It was no dream. Alexander was really there. That 
moment they were clasped in each other's arms. 

Alexander told the good priest how the angel came to 
him in prison, delivered him, and led him within a few 
yards of the spot on which they were standing ; and the 
priest, in tears of joy, recognized that his vision was not a 
disappointing dream, but a consoling reality. They moved 
off together along the Appian Way, expatiating on the 
mercies of God. Alexander spoke with much fervor on 



180 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

what the angel told him; how he was to be taken back 
again to the hands of his persecutors, and to suffer martyr- 
dom for the faith ; that he was liberated from prison for a 
few days in order to confound the Pagans, and to carry 
spiritual relief to some poor Christians, dwelling in a small 
town in the vicinity of the city, who were wavering in their 
faith. Thus the joy and love of their hearts made them 
unconscious of the fatigues of the journey; they did not 
stop until they arrived at the town pointed out by the 
angel. 

Next morning the governor of the prison came in fear 
and trembling to announce to the Emperor that, by some 
unknown means, the prisoner Alexander had escaped. The 
wretched man did not know but that his own head would 
have to pay the penalty. Antoninus was more annoyed 
than surprised. The Christians were a puzzle to him ; he 
dreaded them, while he persecuted them with fiendish 
hatred. His answer to the governor was, Alexander must 
be brought before him at the end of four days ; otherwise, 
his own head would be the atonement to the offended gods. 
The governor received the message with terror, yet it was a 
relief to his terrified soul, although the sword of the execu ■ 
tioner still hung over his head ; he seized the hope that a 
few days' respite afforded, and on his way back to his 
house he planned his arrangements to search the city for 
his victim. But Alexander was like a city on a mountain, 
or a light in the most conspicuous part of the house, — the 
governor had no difficulty in hearing and discovering the 
abode of this great servant of God. 

A couple of days have passed, and Alexander and the 
holy priest Crescentianus have converted the little town on 
the Appian Way to which they were sent by the angel. 
Miracles of all kinds confirmed their preaching : the light 
of heaven was poured on the sightless eyeballs; and the 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. l8l 

lame were made to bound like the deer ; even the dead were 
called from more than four days' corruption, and appeared 
in Rome to their astonished friends, to tell how Alexander 
brought them back to life. Fame flew with untiring wing 
to every triclinium of the city, — from the Forum to the 
Baths, and from the Baths to the Palatine. Immediately 
another troop of soldiers was sent to seize the Bishop ; and 
on the morning of the fourth day he was brought to Rome, 
secured by heavy chains, and surrounded by a cruel and 
demoniacal mob. The governor of the prison had saved 
his head, but heaven had gained a martyr. 

The morning Alexander Was brought to Rome, it hap- 
pened that the Emperor and an immense concourse of people 
had assembled outside the city, t in a field on the Claudian 
Road, to witness an exhibition of wild animals and athletic 
sports. The animals had just arrived from the East, and 
were intended for the games of the Coliseum. While the 
ovariums were being prepared, they were exhibited here, 
to the great amusement and delight of the people. 

The governor of the prison, who was. trembling lest some 
Christian magic should deprive him of his victim once more, 
rubbed his hands with glee when he saw Alexander in 
chains, and stoutly guarded by fifty armed soldiers. He 
ordered the saint to be brought at once to the Via Claudia, 
while he followed in his chariot, feeling the joy of a man 
who had just come out of a dungeon, after having escaped 
the sentence of death. 

They marched about two miles outside the Flaminian 
gate, crossed the Milvian Bridge, and entered the field 
where the Emperor and the people had assembled — the 
same field, probably, which is now the exercising ground 
for the Pontifical troops. In the midst of the sports, a 
rumor passes through the crowd — the Emperor has been 
called — something has happened. Some say fresh ani- 
16 



1 82 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

mals have arrived, and he wished to see them at once; 
others, that important news has come from the city, and he 
is returning to hear it. They see him moving with his 
suite toward a temporary dais erected at the end of the 
field, where he might rest and take refreshments. What is 
it ? is asked by a thousand voices at the same moment, as 
they see a troop of soldiers approaching from the Tiber ; 
in the front rank there walks a young man in the bloom of 
youth, in a strange but poor dress, and bound as a crim- 
inal. All eyes are bent on him. What can he have done? 
Soldiers, too ! And there goes the governor of the Tul- 
lian ! Their wondering questions were not answered, but 
their curiosity was increased when some one said he was 
the Christian who had escaped from prison a few days ago. 
They all rushed round the shaded balcony of the Emperor, 
to witness the result of his examination. 

Alexander was tranquil and cheerful. He was bound 
and guarded ; he knew that every eye was upon him. There 
was none of that false confidence, and apparent indifference 
to fate, which animate political prisoners, led through an 
excited and shouting mob to the tribunal of the state ; he 
had closed his eyes and ears to earthly sounds, his heart 
was away at the throne of God, imploring strength for his 
coming struggle ; nobility, majesty, and angelic sweetness 
were all blended in his countenance ; the eye that looked 
at him through curiosity, remained fixed with reverential 
awe. Among the crowd, there followed the faithful Cres- 
centianus, — he who knows no fear, defies death, — and the 
holy priest recorded for posterity what he saw and heard. 
"Anxiously listening," says the good Crescentianus, "1 
heard Antoninus say : 

" 'Well, Alexander, hast thou consented to become our 
friend ? ' 

"Alexander, after a moment's pause, replied, 'Do not 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 83 

tempt my Lord Jesus Christ; thy father the devil once 
tempted Him, and said, " If thou be the Christ, turn those 
stones into bread," and the Lord said, " Away ! begone, 
Satan, the Lord thy God shalt thou adore, and Him alone 
shalt serve." So I say to you, thou shalt not tempt the 
servant of Christ. ' ' ' 

At that moment, a terrible flash of lightning startled the 
crowd. A dark, heavy thunder-cloud had been passing 
overhead, and, as if in indignation at the insult offered to 
a servant of the great God, poured down its torrents of rain 
upon 'the multitude. The people ran everywhere for shel- 
ter. Frequent and prolonged flashes of forked lightning lit 
up Monte Mario and the Saxa Rubra with a lurid glare, and 
the earth shook with the most terrible thunder. Terror gave 
additional confusion to the scene ; the people ran to and 
fro, mingling their shouts with the screams of the animals, 
while some seemed to lose their senses with fright ; many 
were struck dead by the lightning, others were trampled to 
death by the crowd, as they madly rushed toward the city. 
Antoninus, who, a moment before, had been thinking of 
exposing Alexander at once to the hungry animals, was too 
terrified to carry his project into execution. By giving 
orders to have the prisoner transferred to his tribunal in the 
city, he was but obeyin'g the unseen Providence of God, 
who wished to confound still more the folly of idolatry, 
and manifest His own omnipotence and divinity. The as- 
sembly broke up ; and the moment Alexander left the tri- 
bunal, the storm ceased, the sky became beautiful and clear, 
and the bright rainbow of heaven showed, to the prophetic 
eye of the holy Bishop, the sunshine of peace and triumph 
that would soon shine on the Church after the storm of 
persecution had passed away. 

Next morning the city was in great excitement. The 
thunder-storm, which was perhaps but a natural contin- 



1 84 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

gency, was magnified into a masterpiece of witchcraft and 
skill on the part of the Christians. 

In proportion as curiosity drew them round Alexander 
in greater numbers, their fear and respect were also in- 
creased. Antoninus was confused. He was enraged by 
the anticipation of a defeat, for he knew there was some- 
thing extraordinary about the Christians. A private exami- 
nation and execution were now impossible ; for long before 
the usual time for the trial and condemnation of Christian 
criminals, the Forum was filled with an eager and curious 
crowd. There was no need of a crier on this occasion, to 
call them to witness the terrible fate of the Christians. 
They poured in from every part of the city in immense 
masses ; the humble servant of God was to be like Him- 
self, for the resurrection of many, and for the greater con- 
demnation of the hardened and unconverted. 

At length the Emperor arrived. Alexander was brought 
before him. He had still that mild but inflexible look of 
determination, which, from the first day he saw him, to the 
Emperor seemed superhuman. After he had taken his 
seat, and silence was proclaimed, Antoninus commenced a 
long oration about the great Apollo and the invincible 
Jupiter. He concluded with a touching appeal to the 
human feelings of the saint ; he offered liberty, a post of 
honor in his palace, friendship with Caesar, wealth, marble 
halls and boundless vineyards, — everything that the Pa- 
gan world coveted, but the return for all this — the neces- 
sary condition — was apostasy. (Alas ! how many nowa- 
days are caught with the promises of the world, and sell 
their faith and eternal happiness for a few days of favor with 
Caesar !) But Alexander seemed too indignant to answer. 
He whispered to one of his guards near him something 
equivalent to this, ' ' Tell the Emperor he is a fool for his 
pains." The crowd knew nothing of what he said, but 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 85 

saw a person whispering to Antoninus in a low voice. His 
countenance became flusjied with rage ; he stamped his foot, 
and, calling Cornelianus, cried out angrily, " Let him be 
put on the rack, and burn his sides with torches." 

In those days of terror, the rack, the caldron, and the axe 
were always at hand ; the torturers and the headsmen — 
demons in human form — were always at their post when a 
Christian victim was to be tortured or executed. A few 
seconds after this order had been issued, a cumbrous machine 
was wheeled into the presence of the Emperor. Its ropes, 
wheels, and crossbar handles left no doubt as to its name, 
and efficiency to torture the human frame. Another mo- 
ment and the Bishop was stripped, the loops were passed 
round his hands and feet, and the rough arm of a lictor 
pushed him back on the machine. All were silent, and 
watched with breathless anxiety for the tightening ropes, 
the stretching limbs, the convulsed frame — but, oh won- 
der ! the ropes are stretched to their utmost limits, and the 
saint's body seems to have stretched with them, yet no pain, 
no moans, no contortion of the placid looks ; a smile plays 
around his lips, and joy beams- in his bright eye. Burning 
torches are applied to his naked sides, but his flesh is not 
consumed ; he feels no pain. The martyr himself compared 
the sensation to cold water poured on his body, and washed 
off with the most delicate sponge. After half an hour of 
fruitless effort to dislocate his bones, and burn his sides, the 
Emperor had him taken off, and once more said to him, 
' ' Now, see how long the gods are waiting for thee, and 
thou wilt not submit. Now I swear to thee by Jupiter, the 
only invincible god, and Apollo, who possesses the world 
and rules every age, if thou wilt voluntarily sacrifice to them, 
I will esteem .thee as a brother, and will give thee immense 
riches." 

Contrary to the expectation of all, and even of the Em- 
16* 



1 86 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

peror himself, Alexander replied, " Then where are your 
gods ? let us see if they prove their divinity that we may 
sacrifice to them." 

If the governor of a besieged city on the point of yield- 
ing through starvation saw the enemy retire on the promise 
of a slight reward, he could not have felt more joy than An- 
toninus when the Christian Bishop consented, as he thought, 
to offer sacrifice to his gods. He ordered him to be taken 
immediately to the temple of Apollo ; a crier went before- 
declaring the victory of the Emperor; and the people, who, 
as the Acts say, were about 3000, moved en masse to the 
scene of expected apostasy and perversion. But they were 
doomed to be disappointed. Let us follow the crowd and 
see once more how great is the God of the Christians. 

We have already mentioned where the temple of Apollo 
is supposed to have been situated. The procession moved 
along the Via Sacra through the triumphal arch of Titus, 
and, turning immediately to the right, passed along the Via 
Nuova, — the massive pavements of which are still to be 
seen, — and thus reached the temple of the god Apollo on 
the southern part of the Golden House. Many of the peo- 
ple had run thither immediately to secure a good place ; 
and when the Emperor and the holy Bishop, still guarded 
by the soldiers, had arrived, the lictors had to make a pas- 
sage through the crowd. Antoninus entered the temple 
first, and, in a studied speech, thanked Apollo for his tri- 
umph over the Christian. The fire, the incense, and the 
tripod were ready, and a garland of fresh flowers was put 
on the brow of the marble statue. The Emperor beckoned 
to Alexander to come forward ; he advanced majestically, 
knelt, and prayed. The reader knows what is going to 
happen, — yes! down came the idol and part of the temple, 
breaking all before it, — in a moment all was smoke, con- 
fusion, and ruin. The murmur of the people was like the 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 87 

thunder of the fall. Alexander rose, smiled, and pointed 
to the debris of the statue and temple of the mighty Apollo, 
as much as to say, " These are the gods you worship." 

But as gladiators who contend with each other are more 
maddened by every defeat, so Antoninus became more en- 
raged each time he was baffled by the Christian. He slunk 
away from the scene of the fallen temple as if every stone 
had a tongue to hoot him. It cost him little to blaspheme 
the God he pretended to fear ; in a fit of rage he determined 
once more to avenge himself on the Christian. What is the 
most terrible and disgraceful death he can inflict on Alex- 
ander ? To be torn to pieces like a slave by the wild beasts 
in the Coliseum. Such is to be the case; and as the enraged 
Antoninus moved towards his marble halls, he called Cor- 
nelianus, told him to guard his prisoner well till the mor- 
row, and then to have him devoured by hungry bears and 
lions before the whole people in the amphitheatre. 

2. 

Once more we find ourselves in the Coliseum. More 
beautiful in its renovated splendor ; it seems to have been 
built but yesterday, and to be commencing a new and more 
bloody career. The same scene presents itself to our view 
— crowded seats ; the people shouting; every now and then 
a voice louder than the rest sends a sharp, shrill sound ring- 
ing through every bench, and re-echoing from the awning to 
the arena and back again. It meant, "The Christians to the 
lions ! ' ' The Emperor arrives. Trumpets, drums, and clash- 
ing of arms, mingled with the roars of animals and men ; it 
was the homage of Rome to its terrestrial Jupiter. 

Antoninus entered with a gloomy frown upon his brow. 
The adulations and absurd praises, vociferously clamored 
forth by his subjects, remind him how false his greatness, 
how palpable his weakness, since he cannot conquer one 



i88 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



man — a weak, young, unarmed captive ! Blind, abandoned, 
and already judged, he could not see where thousands saw ; 
yet, historians say, he had a noble soul ! Perhaps they only 
meant by contrast. That soul was wrapped in a mist darker 
and denser than the cloud which the sun cannot penetrate. 
But as the impiety of the Jews was the instrument of the 
mercy of God, so the blindness of the Roman Emperors 
has been the source of everlasting glory. 

Alexander is led in. Venerable, though young ; beauti- 
ful, though austere ; joy is stamped on his features ; con- 
fidence is seen in his gait ; his whole appearance is a de- 
fiance of death ; the bravery of independence inspired by 
martyrdom and anticipated triumph. Hark ! the animals 
are growling, as the apertures of their dungeons are opened ; 
they are greeting some passing gleam of the light of heaven 
through the unbarred gates, or, perhaps, some favorite 
keeper whom they dare not touch. The wildest and best 
are permitted to seek the momentary freedom of a larger 
cage ; a dainty feast of human blood awaits them. 

Two bears rush into the arena, but an invisible power ar- 
rests their progress; they stand motionless, looking towards 
the martyr as if some wondrous light terrified and dazzled 
them. They will not move. Two more enter ; they join 
their companions, and look with awe on the martyr of God. 
But the strangest thing in the annals of the wonders of the 
Coliseum is yet to be told. Alexander moved from the 
centre towards the throne of Caesar, and, behold ! the bears 
follow and lick the prints of his footsteps. " Ubi ambula- 
verat famulus Dei vestigia pedum ejus lingebant," says 
Crescentianus, an eye-witness. 

Two lions were let loose, and with roars bounded towards 
him. But they likewise bowed themselves down before the 
great servant of God, and licked his feet. " Cumque venis- 
sent duo leones, humiliaverunt se ad pedes ejus plantasque 
lingebant.' * 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 89 

Who could describe the noise, the shouts, the yells of 
the people ? Greater than any god' must have been the 
thing called Magic that could work such wonders. But the 
Christians knew it was the omnipotence of God ; their cry 
of praise fell like music on the ear of Alexander ; he re- 
joiced that there were even a few in the mighty mass of 
infidelity that surrounded him to join in thanking their 
common God. 

Cornelianus, who had the care of the prisoners, knew the 
pleasure he should give the Emperor by the destruction of 
Alexander. He prudently (as he thought) anticipated the 
reluctance of the beasts to touch him ; these dumb animals 
were believed to be influenced by the dark arts of magic. 
He had in readiness the furnace burning under an enormous 
pan of heated oil; and, with the permission of the Em- 
peror, it was wheeled into the arena. Louder and deeper 
became the murmurs of the excited people as they saw the 
burning caldron take the place of the brutes, who had been 
coaxed away by large lumps of carrion flesh. But why need 
we delay to tell of another triumph, another defeat, another 
miracle ? Alexander was put into the burning mass, it was 
immediately extinguished. Further and louder cries rang 
6ut from the benches ; the blasphemies of the Pagans were 
not louder than the sweet ' ' Deo gratias ' ' of the faith- 
ful few. 

We have remarked in former narratives, that these extra- 
ordinary miracles in the Coliseum were not without fruit. 
Whilst thousands were left beyond any further doubt, there 
was generally a harvest of immediate conversion. The saints 
in the amphitheatre were like the Apostles, when they came 
out of the upper room in Jerusalem ; every word they spoke 
was an argument that appealed to the intelligence, and like 
an arrow pierced through the heart, the seat of the will, the 
affections, and the passions, which it led captive to the altar 



190 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

of eternal truth. When the Apostles passed away, Almighty 
God still continued the ministry in all its original splendor 
of miracles and attraction. The Flavian amphitheatre at 
Rome was, in its day, one of the spots chosen by Him for 
the continued Apostolate of His Church. How venerable 
must its majestic walls appear to the eyes of the student of 
the Church's history ! Imperishable records, telling of con- 
versions, of wonders, of mighty words, and examples of the 
martyrs of Christ. Here the great Spirit of God breathed 
conviction and love, wheresoever it wished. Pagans, and 
persecutors, and blasphemers, with hearts harder than the 
statues of their gods, entered the Coliseum in the morning, 
to gloat over scenes of cruelty and bloodshed ; before sun- 
set, they were transferred, like the good thief, from the 
midst of their infamy and shame, to the joys of paradise. 
Alexander will not be without a large and beautiful harvest 
of souls, and, even like his predecessors who combated the 
powers of darkness in the arena of the Coliseum, he will 
have companions in his glory. Let us continue the beauti- 
ful records of the Acts. 

Antoninus, seeing his victim still unhurt and indomitable, 
was carried away by his blind fury ; and, without stopping 
to consider whether he could succeed or not, ordered Cor- 
nelianus to have him beheaded by the public executioner. 
Cornelianus commanded silence. He read aloud to the 
assembled thousands the sentence of the Emperor ; that 
Alexander, the contumacious Christian, was to be beheaded 
at the twentieth milestone on the Via Claudia. He had 
scarcely finished the last word of the sentence, when there 
was a commotion near the Emperor's seat ; a young man 
was struggling in the arms of another, every one was silent, 
and all eyes turned towards the scene. At length he over- 
powered his antagonist, and rushed towards the Emperor. 
It was Herculanus, a courtier of the royal suite, and a par- 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. I9I 

ticular favorite of Antoninus. Almost breathless, he cried 
out in a clear voice, " Cruel and insensate tyrant ! how has 
God blinded thine eyes that thou mayest not see, and hard- 
ened thy heart that thou mayest not understand, the great- 
ness of His power ? Behold this Christian : he has come 
forth unhurt from all his trials ; no marks of the lash appear 
on his body; the rack and the burning torches had no 
power to hurt him ; when torn by hooks, he did not breathe 
a word ; the gods of Rome could not stand before him, and 
their temples fell to pieces at his wish ; the lions crouched 
at his feet, and the bears licked his footsteps ; he came out 
of the boiling oil more radiant than when he was put into 
it; and now that he is ordered to be beheaded, he goes to 
death with joy in his heart, and a smile on his face. Who 
can any longer doubt but that He in whom Alexander 
trusts, is the only true God ? ' ' 

Having uttered these last words, he leaped into the arena 
to embrace the martyr, before all the people. The young 
man had watched every triumph of the servant of God ; 
each one of them was a powerful argument in itself, but 
when put together they carried conviction, even in spite of 
prejudice, irresistibly to the mind. He had from the com- 
mencement determined to become a Christian, but the scenes 
he witnessed in the Coliseum had worked up his feelings to 
a pitch of enthusiasm, which he could no longer control. 
He had communicated his conviction to a friend, who, 
knowing the terrible consequences which would follow from 
his public profession of Christianity, endeavored to hold 
him back : this was the cause of the struggle between them. 

Antoninus was thunderstruck at this sudden change in his 
friend, so that for a moment he was unable to utter a word. 
He looked on them embracing each other in the arena, and 
then assuming an air of indifference, addressed the young 
man as follows : — " How comes it, Herculanus, that you 






192 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

entertain these sentiments, you, who up to this moment held 
the Christians in hatred? " 

Herculanus answered boldly : 

"Antoninus, I never hated the Christians. For fourteen 
years I have been in your service, and have accompanied 
you to the temple ; but I prayed secretly in my heart to 
Christ, the great God of the Christians." 

The Emperor muttered something hastily to Cornelianus, 
and left the Coliseum. His orders were that both should 
be beheaded. 

They were executed at different times and different places. 
The Acts we have been quoting record the death of Alex- 
ander in a few short sentences. They are not easily under- 
stood. It would seem that Crescentianus, the friend and 
biographer of the holy Bishop, was so overcome with grief 
and sorrow, that he expressed himself with brevity and ob- 
scurity. However, by the aid of the Martyrology of Ado, 
and the epitomized records of Petrus de Natalibus, we are 
enabled to give the reader some interesting details, and so 
bring this wondrous story to a close. 

Alexander was martyred on the Via Claudia, about five 
miles from the present town of Bracciano, near the beauti- 
ful lake of the same name. He was led out under an escort 
of soldiers to the twentieth milestone ; but why he was 
taken so far, and to this particular place, may be deduced 
from the following facts : 

At the time the events we have recorded were passing, 
the Emperor Antoninus was engaged in laying out a mag- 
nificent villa on the Claudian way. The villas or suburban 
residences of the ancient Romans were superb adjuncts to 
the palaces of the nobility. For miles around the city, 
every spot that was beautiful in nature was decorated with 
marble mansions and artificial gardens. On the gentle de- 
clivities of the Alban hills, amid the olive groves of the 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 93 

Sabine, and on the very cliffs of the Apennines, the lordly- 
mansion of the Roman patrician rose in stupendous gran- 
deur, overlooking a beautiful solitude, and forming an oasis 
of summer repose for the luxurious and wealthy citizen. 
Antoninus selected the green slopes that surrounded Lake 
Bracciano, and erected a villa equal in magnificence to that 
of Adrian near Tibur. The ruins of this villa are still to 
be seen near Bracciano. Arrenghi, in his work on Subter- 
ranean Rome, in the fortieth chapter, has alluded to these 
ruins thus: — "Quo potissimum loco spectatissimse quon- 
dam villae. Veri imperatoris vestigia ingentis quidem mag- 
nitudinis conspiciuntur. ' ' 

It was to this spot Alexander was led out to be martyred. 
Ado relates how a poor woman gave him a napkin to bind 
his eyes before his execution, as was the custom in cases of 
decapitation : it was brought back to her by an angel after 
the martyrdom of the holy Bishop. A similar fact is re- 
corded of St. Plautilla, when St. Paul was going to be be- 
headed, and the towel or handkerchief was miraculously 
restored to her. At the moment that the executioner's axe 
fell on the neck of Alexander, the earth was shaken by an 
earthquake ; a great number of houses in the little town of 
Bracciano fell, and the villa and baths of the Emperor were 
nearly destroyed. Many of the inhabitants were killed in 
the ruins. 

The faithful Crescentianus was at hand to bury the body. 
He built a new crypt near the scene of his triumph ; and 
having embalmed the venerable remains, he put on the slab 
these words, " Hie requiescit sanctus et venerabilis Martyr 
Alexander Episcopus cujus depositio celebratur undecimo 
Kal. Oct." ("Here rests the holy and venerable martyr 
Alexander, Bishop, whose deposition is celebrated the 
eleventh of the Kalends of October.") 
17 N 



194 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

The Acts record the wonderful conversion of Cornelianus, 
which we will give here in a few words. 

Seven days after the martyrdom of the saint, Cornelianus 
came to the place where he was buried, and seeing the word 
martyr on his tomb, he was filled with anger : he took up 
a heavy instrument and stretched out his arm to break the 
slab, when that moment his arm was withered, and he fell 
insensible to the ground. He writhed and screamed in 
agony. The people gathered round him ; his wife and his 
own family, on witnessing his condition, broke out into loud 
lamentation, and terror seized on every one present. They 
spoke to him, but he made no answer, for he had lost his 
senses. He was carried to his villa, and every means em- 
ployed to restore him, but in vain ; his malady seemed to 
increase. In paroxysms of pain, he cried out, "O Alex- 
ander ! you are burning me ; I beseech you to assist me." 
When they heard him calling out for the assistance of the 
Christian whom he had put to death, they were surprised, 
and thought it was the effect of his madness. But there 
was a stranger looking on ; nobody knew who he was ; he 
whispered into the ear of the afflicted wife, " Take him to 
the tomb of Alexander again and he will be cured." She 
did so ; and no sooner did they put his withered arm against 
the tomb of the saint, than it was restored, and Cornelianus 
came to himself again. 

"On the following day," say the Acts, "he sent for 
Pothasius and his daughter, and related to them all that 
happened to the martyr, and what he had suffered on his 
account, and Pothasius wrote the words dictated by him." 
This document was preserved in the imperial archives. 
The priest Crescentianus says he saw it, and made some 
additions to it from what he saw. After the death of the 
Emperor Antoninus, which happened soon after the mar- 
tyrdom of Alexander, Cornelianus gave the Christians a 



ALEXANDER, BISHOP AND MARTYR. 1 95 

large piece of ground round the tomb of the saint. His 
body was removed by Crescentianus to the seventh mile- 
stone on the same Claudian Way, and here there imme- 
diately sprang up a church and cemetery. All traces of 
these have long since passed away, for some of the most ter- 
rible of the persecutions of the Christians have yet to come ; 
and in the storms that afterwards blew over the Church, 
every sanctuary and altar were swept away ; but the faith 
was preached and flourished in the secret recesses of the 
Catacombs. 





CHAPTER XL 



THE SENATORS. 




HE Senate was the grandest institution of Pagan 
Rome. Outside the hierarchy of the Catholic 
Church, there never was an assembly more pow- 
erful, more united, more lasting. It has passed 
through the wars, the storms, and vicissitudes of twenty-five 
centuries, and still exists. Springing from obscurity, it 
moved insensibly into power, until it ruled the world. It 
rose amid a band of fugitives, truant slaves, and highway- 
men ; was founded by Romulus about 750 B.C. It consisted 
first of a hundred of the oldest and most respectable men 
of the little colony of exiles and slaves that settled down 
among the Seven Hills ; hence its name of Senate, or assem- 
bly of old men or fathers. It was increased to two hundred 
when the rape of the Sabines brought a union between the 
two tribes. Under Tarquin the number was raised to three 
hundred, and under the Emperors it reached as high as a 
thousand. All power was placed in their hands. The chief 
magistrate, although he bore the title of king, was but the 
commander of the army, and presided over the religion of the 
state. The Senate declared war or peace, and treated with 
the ambassadors of other nations. They wore a different 

196 



THE SENATORS. 1 97 

kind of dress from the ordinary people ; they had a special 
place appointed for them in the Coliseum, and in all public 
functions ; they were forbidden to traffic or intermarry with 
persons of base extraction. Among the prohibited were 
actresses and their daughters and grand-daughters. An 
ancient writer gives a detailed idea of the powers reserved 
to the Senate. In the days of its glory it was the sole source 
and centre of the power and greatness of Rome. "No- 
thing," says Polybius, "could go in or out of the treasury 
without its consent ; it was the highest administration of 
the State. It judged the differences which arose between 
the cities and provinces that submitted to the Empire ; it 
corrected or defended them when necessary. It enrolled 
the aimy and supplied their pay; it sent its consuls to the 
battle-field, and recalled them at will, or sent other generals 
to replace them ; it declared the triumph and measured the 
glory of the conqueror ; no public monument could be 
raised to the memory of the great without its consent. It 
was, in fine, the grand court of appeal for the nations of 
the earth, the sole representative of the Roman people." 

If we add to their unlimited legal power the ascendancy 
that the senators of Rome must have naturally gained from 
their wealth, their personal merit, their patriotism, and 
their union, we can easily understand how they influenced 
the destinies of so many nations. 

When we read the annals of this great institution, we are 
struck with the gravity of its debates, and the boldness and 
independence of its acts, ever mingled and directed by pru- 
dence and foresight. No authority was recognized among 
them but reason ; instead of party spirit, jealousy, and par- 
tiality, one grand and noble feeling presided over their as- 
sembly, and guided their actions, — it was the public good. 
This was the secret of their triumph and their power. 
17* 



198 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



The early history of the Senate is wrapt up in the history 
of Rome itself, and is inseparable from it. But, as the events 
we are about to relate took place in that era of Rome in 
which the Coliseum flourished, we must glance at its char- 
acter at that time, during those days of persecution. 

After the political convulsions that shook the Empire, 
drove Cicero into exile, and placed Caesar at the head of 
affairs, the Senate received a blow from which it never re- 
covered. The form of the Roman government was com- 
pletely changed ; the people, who had conquered the patri- 
cians, yielded up all their rights to their chief, and the 
whole power of the Empire became concentrated in one 
man. Csesar assumed the title of Dictator and Emperor, and 
therewith the rights of the Supreme Pontiff, the authority of 
the censors, and of the praetorship. Thus he controlled 
the treasury, had the right of declaring peace or war, — the 
disposition of the provinces, and the election of the magis- 
trates. His ambition was fatal to the power of the Senate, 
and although it continued its meetings, and sustained the 
splendor of its former prestige, yet it was nothing more 
than a political assembly, a grand council of the state, that 
enjoyed only as much power as its ambitious chief consented 
to give. 

It is not, however, to be supposed that .the senators sub- 
mitted to these changes without a murmur. A spirit of envy 
and indignation showed itself in their public and private 
actions ; and the first Emperor was too sharp-sighted not to 
see a terrible revenge flashing from a hundred poniards in 
the very halls of the Senate. A policy of conciliation only 
retarded the fatal blow. He knew their power even in the 
very memories of the past ; and although he had triumphed 
over them as the idol of a mob, yet he could not afford to 
trample on the patricians and lose their support. 



THE SENATORS. 1 99 

His policy was to neutralize the opposition of the inheri- 
tors of the old patrician power, by adding to their number 
from his own most devoted followers, and he immediately 
raised the Senate to nine hundred ; he increased in propor- 
tion the number of magistrates, and filled some of the most 
important offices with his own adherents. It was by this 
means that men from the provinces of Etruria and Lucania, 
and Venetians, Insubrians, and others, barbarian and illit- 
erate, were poured in to deteriorate and corrupt the great 
patriarchal institution of the Empress City. This roused 
more than ever the indignation of the aristocratic party, and 
even the great Cicero murmured, and his powerful pen ac- 
celerated the ruin that was coming. Suetonius tells us, that 
nothing could be heard but verses and songs ridiculing the 
new senators ; galling insinuations, that they were a con- 
quered race of barbarians, and that Caesar had made them 
change their skins for the laticlave. On the Pasquin of 
that time (most probably the same old disfigured statue that 
stands at one of the angles of the Braschi Palace) were put 
up notices to this effect, "Let no one show the strangers 
the way to the Forum." 

The indignation of the old patricians went on increasing. 
Though robbed and humbled, they were resolute and de- 
termined. Their discontent at last burst out into passion 
and fury, and, led on by the impetuous Brutus, they resolved 
on Caesar's death. He fell. His bleeding body was still 
lying at the base of Pompey's statue in the Forum, whilst 
the forty wretches who had assassinated him rushed through 
the streets with their daggers in their hands, still reeking 
with the blood of the dictator, and crying out, "Death to 
all tyrants ! ' ' Yet their triumph was but temporary. That 
venerable body did not receive its power and prestige by 
violence and bloodshed ; they will not serve it now : the 
degrees of Providence are against it — it may exist, but will 
never again rule the world. 



200 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

The revolution of the Ides of March, as it is called, 
robbed the world of its greatest man. Brutus boasted of 
having slain a tyrant, but the provinces wept over Caesar's 
death. The cry of grief and public mourning that rose 
through the whole Empire was the condemnation of the 
murderers. It was evident to all that the jealousy and am- 
bition of a body of factious citizens caused the death of 
Caesar, not the true love of liberty, nor zeal for the welfare 
of the state. ' l They called themselves slayers of a tyrant, ' ' 
says Dion Cassius, a senator himself, who lived about a cen- 
tury afterwards, " but they were nothing more than assas- 
sins and murderers." (No. xliv. i.) 

Caesar was beloved in the provinces. Its magistrates, the 
army, and even the greater part of the Senate, lamented 
his fall. The outer world cared nothing about the suprem- 
acy of the Senate. What advantage did they reap from the 
politics or agitations of the Roman Forum ? As long as 
they enjoyed liberty, prosperity, and justice from their ac- 
knowledged chief, why should they espouse the cause of 
the Senate ? Moreover, the assembly itself had fallen from 
its pristine integrity. Its effeminacy, its partiality, and de- 
parture from the rigor and patriotism oT its ancient institu- 
tion, drew on it contempt rather than submission and ad- 
miration. Long before the monarchy of Caesar, the great 
Cicero spoke these remarkable words, indicating its moral 
as well as political degeneration : — "It is on account of 
our vices, and not from any stroke of fortune, that, although 
We preserve the name of a republic, we have long since 
lost the reality " — " Nostris, non casu aliquo, rempublicam 
verbo retinemus, reipsa vero jam pridem amisimus." — De 
Repub. v. i. 

The blood of Caesar was shed in vain ; the anarchical 
faction of the Senate never held the reins of government : 
the poniards that slew him commenced for the Senate the 



THE SENATORS. 201 

most terrible and disastrous period of its career. In the 
civil wars and convulsions that followed, they not only lost 
the last vestige of their former power, but became the vic- 
tims of the caprice or revenge of the ambitious aspirants to 
the supreme power of the Empire. 

Augustus assumes the sceptre of Caesar. His re-organi- 
zation of the Senate was one of the most splendid, because 
most difficult, feats of his successful reign. By his influence 
he caused nearly two hundred of its members, who were 
not fitted by birth or talent for their high position and 
honors, to resign their places. He calmed their suspicions, 
and concealed his ambition by assuming the humble title 
of Prince of the Senate. Nevertheless, during the time 
that was occupied in this work of reformation, he never 
appeared among them without having near him nine or ten 
of his most faithful adherents, who were secretly armed, 
and he himself carried his dagger under his toga. He 
prudently feared their resentment. Eleven years after- 
ward, in the year 18 before Christ, he completed the or- 
ganization, and reduced their number to six hundred ; and 
thus commenced the imperial Senate. 

It is unnecessary to follow the noble institution in its after 
career of servility and degradation, during the reign of the 
succeeding Emperors. 

After the abdication of Diocletian, and the triumph of 
Constantine, the Senate struggled on in its hereditary exist- 
ence. Its name was torn from the Capitol and the military 
standards ; in its place was substituted the more formidable 
and imperishable sign of redemption. The statue and altar 
of Victory, which presided as a tutelary deity over its as- 
semblies, were removed under Constance, brought back 
under the apostate Julian, and finally destroyed by their 
own unanimous consent. There were still many among 
them who clung to the old rites of Paganism ; but ever 



202 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM, 

docile to the command of the emperors, under Theodosius, 
the worship of the gods of the Capitol was proscribed, and 
Christianity declared to be the religion of the Senate and 
Ro7nan people. "It was then," says the sublime Prudens, 
"that we saw those venerable fathers, those most brilliant 
lights of the world, the noble council of Catos, cast off the 
insignia of the old priesthood, and humbly clothe them- 
selves in the white robes of catechumens. ' ' 

" Exultare patres videas, pulcherrima mundi 
Lumina, conciliumque senum gestire Catonutn, 
Candidiore toga niveum pietatis amictum 
Sumere, et exuvias deponere pontificates. " 

Whilst, however, the power and independence of the 
Senate had passed away, it must not be forgotten that it 
was still the highest and most influential body in the Em- 
pire. Its members were the nobles of the land, and pos- 
sessed immense wealth. According to Dion Cassius, a 
senator's fortune amounted to a million sesterces ; and if 
we believe Suetonius, some of them had annually a return 
equal to two million sesterces, about ^105,000, which 
should be multiplied by ten to arrive at even a proximate 
idea of the value of money at that time. In a city of at 
least 3,000,000 of people they were the principal and lead- 
ing members. The usurpers of the imperial throne perse- 
cuted them, because they knew and feared their power. 
Moreover, when historians make sweeping assertions re- 
specting the immorality and effeminacy of the great assem- 
bly, there must have been among them brilliant exceptions. 
History itself records names of honor and worth which 
flourished in, the Senate in its very worst days; many of these 
were Christians, and even martyrs, who shed their blood 
in the Coliseum in defence of the faith. 






THE SENATORS. 203 

3- 

Our next martyrdom will be a scene from the horrors of 
the reign of the Emperor Commodus. A more worthless 
tyrant could not have sat on the imperial throne. His in- 
sane ambition urged him to the assumption of divine 
honors. Not content with this, he had a throne erected 
in the midst of the Senate, and clothing himself in a lion's 
skin, and carrying a great club in his hand, he commanded 
the senators to offer sacrifice to him as if he were Hercules, 
the son of Jupiter. He issued a decree summoning a gen- 
eral assembly of the Senate in the Temple of the Earth. A 
crier was sent to all the neighboring towns and villages to 
publish the decree, and all were to attend under pain of 
death. The people even in Rome itself were not aware of 
the cause of this extraordinary assembly of the Senate. 
They imagined that some terrible calamity was threatening 
the Empire, that a formidable revolution had broken out, 
and that the tide of war had rolled up to the very gates of 
the imperial city. The senators, believing their counsel 
and advice were required for the public good, hastened in 
from their suburban retreats, and although in the middle 
of the summer heats, left their villas and farms and fami- 
lies, and poured in hundreds along the dusty Via Tiburtina, 
and the sepulchral Appian and Latin Ways. 

From the time of Augustus, the ordinary proceedings 
of the Senate commenced by sacrificing to Jupiter or Vic- 
tory, whose statue was placed in their halls. Hence, as 
Baronius says (anno 192), no senator could remain a mem- 
ber of the body after he had become a Christian ; he was 
obliged to renounce the title or withdraw himself by volun- 
tary exile. 

The monstrous absurdities of Commodus, and the zeal 
of the Christians, led many of the Pagans to the fold of the 



204 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



Church. We find in the Acts of Eusebius and his com- 
panions, that they went through the streets appealing to the 
ridicule and shame of the people. The sublime doctrines 
and morality of Christianity were at all times more beauti- 
ful and more powerful than the ridiculous and unmeaning 
worship of Paganism. When, the command was sent forth 
for them to worship a wretch like Commodus, many opened 
their eyes to the folly of their idolatry, yielded to the call 
of grace, and became Christians. Among these were some 
of the senators. Apollonius and Julius appear on the list 
of the undaunted men who dared to deny the divinity of 
the Emperor. The sword was the only thunder the re- 
vengeful god could command, and he used it to show his 
weakness. Apollonius suffered about three years before 
Julius. His martyrdom did not take place in the Coli- 
seum, but we will translate an interesting paragraph about 
him from the fifth book of Eusebius, as quoted by Baronius 
under the year 189. After speaking of the peace which 
the Church enjoyed before this time, he adds : 

" But this peace was not pleasing to the devil; he en- 
deavored to disturb us by many stratagems ; and he suc- 
ceeded in bringing to judgment and trial Apollonius, a 
man most celebrated among the faithful for his studies of 
polite literature and philosophy. One of his servants, a 
depraved wretch, was induced to betray him (for which he 
suffered severely). When the martyr, most dear to God, 
was asked by the judge to give his fellow-fathers of the 
Senate a reason for embracing Christianity, he read for 
them a long and learned apology for the faith of Christ ; 
but they pronounced sentence against him, and he lost his 
life by a stroke of the axe ; for there was an old law among 
them that any Senator that was accused of being a Christian, 
and would not change his profession, was no longer free." 
The morning of the grand assembly of the Senate had 



THE SENATORS. 205 

arrived. The city was alive with excitement. The vener- 
able leaders of the community were full of hope that a bet- 
ter time was coming, that they were about to be restored to 
their ancient rights. It was the first time in this reign that 
they had been solemnly called together, and these meet- 
ings had become exceedingly rare. Each senator, attired 
in his best laticlave, brought his children with him to the 
temple of the Goddess of the Earth, which stood under the 
shadow of the lofty arches of the amphitheatre. Along the 
Via Sacra, and around the triumphal arch of Titus, little 
knots of white-bearded senators were discussing the prob- 
able cause that induced the Emperor to reinstate the Senate. 
Some said it was fear, because the death of Perrenius, 
their chief, and the warning the gods had given him, made 
him anxious to conciliate the Senate by restoring them to 
their power in the Empire. "I was present," said an 
aged citizen, to some of his friends who had just come from 
Tiburtium, "when in the midst of the entertainments of 
the theatre a stranger suddenly entered. He was dressed 
as a philosopher, with a staff of a pilgrim in his hand, and 
a bag flung over his shoulder. Approaching the throne of 
the Emperor, and commanding silence with his hand, 
' This is not the time, Commodus,' spoke the stranger, 'to 
indulge in theatrical shows and vain delights ; for the sword 
of Perrenius .hangs over thy head, and if thou dost not take 
care, thou art already lost ; for he has bribed thy enemies, 
and corrupted the army in Illyria. Tremble, for danger is 
at thy door ! ' The Emperor trembled indeed," continued 
the aged senator; "and to appease him, we all cried out, 
' Death to Perrenius ! ' He was slain ; but the Emperor 
has never been the same since that day. He has become 
more cruel, more suspicious, and unbearable ; and I greatly 
suspect he has some deep plot in calling us together here 
to-day. I come with my trusty dagger ! ' ' Saying this, he 
18 



206 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

drew a beautifully gilt poniard from under the folds of his 
toga, and showed it to his companion as one of the treas- 
ures left him by his grandsires. 

The speaker was the same who drew his dagger some time 
afterward under one of the arches of the Coliseum ; and 
brandishing it in the face of Commodus, exclaimed : "Be- 
hold what the Senate has prepared for you ! ' ' 

Another said he thought it was because the terrible plague, 
that had broken out in Etruria and Cis-Alpine Gaul, was 
fast extending toward the city, and bearing desolation in 
its path. He had heard that the Supreme Pontiff of the 
Capitol had suggested sacrifices to the angry Jove; he 
thought that, perhaps, the Senate might have been assembled 
for that purpose. 

"Not at all," interrupted a tall, thin senator, who was 
dressed as a military commander, and seemed a man of 
great importance, and spoke with a sarcastic smile, "not 
at all ; he thinks more of the harlots of his baths and lu- 
panars than his suffering subjects. It is money he wants. 
I heard from his comptroller that he hasn't an obolus to 
pay Charon for his ferry over the Styx. Sacrifice ! why, 
it will be only to offer sacrifice to himself, as the god Her- 
cules and the son of Jupiter." Here they all laughed, as 
if he had made a good joke ; but a young man near him, 
who was silent and thoughtful during the conversation, felt 
a thrill of horror pass through him as Vitellius, the com- 
mander of the foot, spoke. He concealed his indignation, 
and they all moved together toward the temple of the 
planetary goddess. 

A strange scene once took place in a lunatic asylum in 
England. A madman told all his companions, who were 
not so mad as himself, that he was God. Being a very vio- 
lent character, he kept them all in fear, and they consented 
to call him God. One day, when there happened to be an 



THE SENATORS. 20/ 

insufficient number of attendants in the room, this madman 
got up on a chair and commanded all the other madmen 
to come and adore him. Whether through fear or frolic, 
they actually gathered around him and pretended to adore 
him. Some kissed the ground, others his feet ; one said he 
was the Archangel Michael, and brought the homage of all 
the other angels ; another said he was king of the earth, 
and brought the acknowledgment of all creatures. Thus 
the strange farce was going on, when the other attendants 
came in, and removed the deluded man to the dismal soli- 
tude of seclusion. This is almost precisely a picture of a 
terrible scene that was witnessed in Rome in the year of our 
Lord 192 ; not among madmen, but among the most edu- 
cated, the most wealthy, and most powerful members of the 
great Empire. The Temple of the Earth was dressed out with 
evergreens and flowers ; around the walls were rude pictures 
representing the fabulous deeds of Hercules ; an immense 
fire of faggots of costly wood blazed in the centre of the 
temple ; the priests were standing by in fantastic robes of 
yellow and gold, and the high Pontiff held a golden tripod 
in his right hand ; all was ready for sacrifice. But who 
was the god that had usurped the throne of the bountiful 
planet? It was the living Hercules, clothed in a lion's 
skin, and holding a massive club in his hand ; it was Corn- 
modus ! 

The senators entered one by one. They were immedi- 
ately struck with fear and amazement. Some were seized 
with laughter, as if the whole thing were a joke, for which 
they afterwards paid dearly ; others turned pale with con- 
sternation, for armed lictors were scattered through the 
temple, and the severe looks of the tyrant trying to assume 
the majesty of a real Hercules cast a funeral gloom over the 
proceedings. His diminutive figure, his bloated and ill- 
foimed features, above all, his shameful and disgraceful 



208 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

life, made a sorry contrast with the splendid and gigantic 
hero called Hercules in the fables of mythology. 

The proud wretch addressed the conscript fathers ; he de- 
clared that he had called them together for the purpose of 
announcing that henceforth he was to be worshipped as the 
son of Jupiter. No historian has left us an account of the 
words he used — who could chronicle such nonsense and 
impiety? But the Senate, the weak, fallen Senate, went 
through the blasphemous farce of incense and adulation as 
to a god. Scenes like these frequently occurred in the great 
Babylon of Pagan Rome, and show to what a depth man 
had descended in the darkness of idolatry and infidelity. 
Strange as it may appear, Christianity had a long and ter- 
rible struggle with the powers of hell. Eighteen centuries 
have rolled over, and it is still on the battle-field — by 
trials, tribulations and sufferings of every stamp, it is slowly 
but surely pushing on its standard of the cross. Its com- 
plete triumph is -to be commemorated, after the last day, in 
heaven. But in the second century of the Church, from 
which we record these events, the hatred of Christianity was 
so intense, that, notwithstanding the force of reason that 
sustained it, and the incontestable miracles confirming its 
divinity, the degraded and cowardly Senate preferred rather 
to worship the proud and lascivious Commodus, than to 
expose themselves to danger. Alas ! this was true of the 
Senate, but there was one exception. This was Julius. Over 
seven hundred aged men lent themselves to the silly mock- 
ery — Julius alone had the courage to express his contempt, 
and to refuse to bend his knee. 

When it was announced to the Emperor that Julius would 
not come forward to offer incense to his divinity, Com- 
modus commanded him to be brought before him by the 
lictors. All eyes were turned on the senator as he walked 
up between the lictors to the tribune of the temple, where 



THE SENATORS. 20g 

the Emperor's throne was placed. The buzz of conversa- 
tion ceased, and those who had been secretly casting ridi- 
cule and contempt on their demented ruler turned in eager 
silence to watch the fate of Julius. " How have you become 
so mad," asked Commodus, "as not to sacrifice to Jupiter 
and his son Hercules ? ' ' (Here we quote from the Acts 
given by the Bollandists?^ Julius seemed for a moment too 
indignant to answer, but looking with brave contempt on 
the proud tyrant, said, " You will perish like them, because 
you lie like them ! " This was enough. The tyrant called 
Vit~llius, the commander of the foot, and bade him take 
the insolent senator from his sight, exclaiming angrily, 
" Confiscate his goods even to the last farthing, and scourge 
him until he sacrifice to our divinity ! ' ' 

The judgments of God are different from those of men. 
If our merciful and loving Father were capable of the pas- 
sion of anger, and punished at the moment every insult 
offered to His Divine Majesty, the human race would have 
been long ago extinct. Commodus could not have em- 
ployed a more cruel or worthless wretch to discharge his 
orders than Vitellhis. He had Julius led away in chains 
and cast into prison, most probably the Mamertine, to 
await his pleasure. 

After some days of confinement — deprived of food and 
every external comfort — he was brought before Vitellius 
in the same temple. Julius was ordered to be brought in, 
naked and covered with chains. When he had come before 
the seat of the judge, and under the statue that the impious 
Commodus had erected, Vitellius said to the martyr of 
Christ, " Do you still persist in your folly ? Will you not 
now obey the orders of the Emperor, and sacrifice to the 
gods Jupiter and his son Hercules ? " 

"Never," answered Julius; "you and your prince will 
perish alike." 

18* 



210 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

"And who will save you, and make us perish?" asked 
Vitellius, sarcastically. 

"Jesus Christ," said Julius, raising his finger solemnly 
towards heaven; adding, after a moment's pause, "He who 
condemns thee and thy foolish sovereign to eternal ruin. ' ' 

Vitellius ordered him to be taken out to the Petra Scele- 
rata and scourged; but the body^Df the holy martyr was 
exhausted through want, and while the brutal executioners 
were beating him with their heavy whips, he expired. The 
wretched judge endeavored to vent on his lifeless remains 
the anger and revenge that the premature death of his vic- 
tim had left unsatiated ; he ordered the body of Julius to 
be cast before the statue of the sun, and almost under the 
arches of the Coliseum, that the dogs might devour him, 
and that the people who poured into the amphitheatre might 
see his infamy. What could the poor people expect, when 
such terrible judgment was wreaked on the very senators 
themselves ? Guards were set to watch the body, that no 
one might remove it, and a notice was put up on the walls 
of the Coliseum, that he had been put to death for not sac- 
rificing to the divinity of the great god who had just come 
among them. Angels watched over those precious relics ; 
no insult was offered ; the people trembled, and passed on. 
Thousands pitied the fate of the brave man who had the 
courage to withstand the absurdities of the impious and 
cruel Emperor ; greater contempt and greater hatred for the 
tyrant-god who thus gloried in the blood of human victims 
was the result produced by the cruelty of Vitellius. The 
following night, when the guards were asleep, Eusebius and 
his companions stole out from the arches of the Coliseum, 
and took away the remains of the holy martyr, and buried 
them in the catacombs or cemetery ©f Calepodius on the 
Via Aurelia. The greater portion of his body is at present 
in the Church of St. Ignatius in Rome. 



THE SENA TORS. 2 1 1 



Further on in the history of Rome, we have another extraor- 
dinary case of a little boy, the son of a senator, exposed 
to the wild beasts in the Coliseum. Neither age, nor con- 
dition, nor sex were safeguards against the cruelty and ty- 
ranny. It is now-a-days the amusement and the wonder of 
the hippodromes of London and Paris to see little boys 
performing extraordinary feats of agility and skill, springing 
and tumbling as if their bodies were made of india-rubber, 
seeming to baffle the laws of gravity, and to fly in the air. 
Shouts of applause greet the young gymnast as he retires 
with a graceful bow. The Coliseum too has had its 
youthful prodigies. Not indeed that they were trained to 
amuse the Roman people with surprising feats of dancing 
on tight-ropes, or throwing somersaults in the air, but they 
were cast into the arena to be devoured by wild beasts, and 
thus caused the amusement of the unfeeling mob. Their 
courage, their skill and success were of a higher order than 
physical dexterity ; their reward was not the miserable 
wages of an employer, nor the shouts of an admiring audi- 
ence ; but heaven, eternal life, and God. Let us cull one 
of these touching scenes from the history of the Coliseum. 

A strange accident had placed the brothers Carinus and 
Numerianus at the head of affairs. In the year 283, their 
father, Carus, set out on an expedition against the Persians. 
He was a rude, rough soldier, and was successful in arms. 
Civil war had weakened the restless East, and Carus pene- 
trated easily to the very heart of the enemies' territory. 
Having conquered Seleucia, and taken possession of Ctesi- 
phon, he encamped near the river Tigris. Strange to say, 
there was an order from the oracles that the Roman arms 
were not to pass so far as this in the Persian territory. We 
will not stay to examine the origin of this superstition ; but 



212 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

the fact was, the very first day of their encampment they 
nearly all perished in a terrible storm. A sudden night 
darkened the heavens, and the lightning fell in the middle 
of the camp, killing many, and setting everything in flames. 
Among the victims of this terrible storm was the Emperor 
Cams. Amid the confusion of the darkness and the noise 
of the thunder, his tent was seen to blaze up with an im- 
mense flame, and the soldiers ran to and fro, crying out, 
"The Emperor is dead!" His two sons, Carinus and 
Numerianus, were declared Emperors. The first remained 
in charge of the West, the other took the control of the East. 

Carinus had a short, but cruel and bloody reign. He 
was not what his name expresses ; for history brands him 
with brutality and ignorance. Not that he adopted a uni- 
form system of persecution, but rather used the sword 
against the Christians under the impulses of caprice and 
fashion. He had friends among them, and perhaps rather 
tolerated the cruelties of his tyrannical officials, than in- 
flicted them himself; yet he was an angel of mercy com- 
pared to the demon that followed him in the terrible war 
against the Crucified. The event that rid the world of the 
Emperor Carinus gave the reins of government to Diocle- 
tian, the worst and most brutal persecutor of the Church. 
Under Numerianus and Carinus, innumerable martyrs were 
sent to heaven. Among them was the brave boy Marinus — 
one of the saints of the Coliseum. 

Marinus was a child of about ten years of age. It was 
discovered that he was a Christian ; he was seized, brought 
before Martianus, the prefect, scourged, and cast into prison. 

In short, rapid sentences like these, the Acts give us the 
preliminary notice of our young martyr. But they speak 
volumes. What must have been the training of that child ! 
What must have been the spotless innocence of his untainted 
soul ! Fancy wafts us across the lapse of centuries, and we 



THE SENATORS. 213 

imagine we are standing in the marble Forum of the mighty 
city. A crowd approaches, and some rough, rude soldiers are 
leading a beautiful boy to the court of the prefect. Heavy 
chains weigh down his little hands, and the large gold 
band round his purple laticlave tells of his being the son 
of a senator. What crime has he committed ? Could one 
so young and beautiful be a murderer and an assassin ? But 
the murmur passes through the ever-increasing crowd — he 
is a Christian. Enter the hall where the prefect has his 
tribunal (probably the Temple of the Earth), you hear no 
idle remonstrance from the youthful prisoner, — no childish 
fear, — no imploring sobs; but brave and undaunted the 
little fellow stands erect before the tyrant. Whence that 
eloquence — that profound depth of learning and thought 
— the angelic sounds of his voice ? Behold the supernatural 
aid promised to those dragged before princes and tyrants — 
behold "wisdom perfected in the mouths of the innocent." 

The judge is confounded — silenced by a boy. He vents 
his impotent rage, and orders Marinus to be flogged. The 
rough, cruel lictors tear off his little dress, and soon his 
snow-white and unwrinkled shoulders are red and blue 
from the galling lash. No heart-rending, cries, scarcely a 
movement, save the convulsive shock which each stinging 
blow sends through his delicate frame. "Will you sacri- 
fice ? ' ' rings through the hall at intervals ; the answer is a 
low, sweet murmur of the sacred name of Jesus. Baffled 
and enraged, the tyrant ordered him to be cast into prison, 
to prepare some infernal machines of torture to shake the 
constancy of the heavenly child. 

Poor Marinus ! In pain and suffering he passed the night 
in the darksome prison, no one to dress his wounds, not 
even a drop of water to cool his feverish tongue. He was 
accustomed to a beautiful room and a bed of down ; now 
he lays his aching bones on the cold, damp stones. Does 



214 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

he think of mother and playmates? Do boyish fancies 
sum up the phantoms of fright ? Do pain and fear make 
him doubt of God ? No. Angels are around him ; his 
heart is light and cheerful, his interior joy absorbs the 
sensibilities of the flesh, and makes him forget the pain. 
The morning sun dawns, its meridian will have witnessed 
a greater defeat for the powers of darkness, — a greater 
triumph for the senator's boy. y 

The judge has once more taken his seat, and Marinus is 
brought before him. The rack, the fire, and instruments 
of torture are prepared. Our little martyr sees them all, he 
knows they are prepared for him, but he is neither fright- 
ened nor dismayed. Though young in years, he is old in 
the sublime lessons of the gospel ; he is prepared to die for 
Christ. Finding he is still immovable in his resolve, the 
wicked judge orders him to be stretched on the rack. But 
behold, Almighty God will not permit His chaste and in- 
nocent servant to be dislocated or torn by the brutality of 
the Pagan. No sooner have the executioners stretched his 
little body on the dreadful rack, and are about to turn the 
wheels to tighten the ropes, than the machine is struck by 
the lightning of heaven, — broken up into a thousand frag- 
ments, and the lictors and bystanders felled to the ground ; 
whilst Marinus stands unbound and unhurt in the midst of 
the fragments, pointing with one finger toward the wreck 
of the instrument of torture, and with the other towards 
Him who is the shield and strength of the oppressed. 

The miracle, instead of terrifying and converting the 
impious Martianus, made him more anxious to take the 
boy's life ; but once more he will be foiled in his cruelty. 
He had Marinus cast into a large caldron, under which he 
had placed an enormous fire. But Marinus thought he lay 
on a bed of roses, and the intense heat that made the iron 
red-hot was to him a zephyr of odoriferous dew. The 



THE SENATORS. 21$ 

tyrant, seeing it availed nothing, had him thrown into an 
oven, and gave orders that he should be kept in it under 
a red-hot heat until the following day. But Almighty God 
protected and consoled little Marinus ; and the next morn- 
ing, when they opened the oven, expecting to see him 
burnt to a cinder, they found him with his little hands 
folded in the attitude of prayer, and singing hymns of praise 
to God. When this was reported to the impious Martianus, 
he stamped his feet with rage, and commanded that he 
should be thrown to the wild beasts in the Coliseum, that 
the hungry lions might rid him of the troublesome child. 
But once more the power of God will be displayed in the 
weak and innocent victim, and He who reigns above will 
laugh at the machinations of His enemies. 

The scene in the Coliseum was extraordinary. A lion 
was let out first. It ran immediately towards the trembling 
child j but lying down before him, it seemed to reverence 
Marinus ; then rising up, it placed its great paws on the 
little fellow's shoulders, and began to lick his face. A 
leopard was let out, and it lay at his feet and began to lick 
them ; then a female leopard and a tiger were let loose ; 
but they all vied with each other in showing their respect. 
The people shouted ; and the keepers tried to irritate them, 
but had to fly from the arena, for the animals threatened to 
turn on them. Occasionally the lion and tiger would go 
over to that portion of the Coliseum where the wretched 
Martianus was sitting, and looking towards him, would 
growl angrily, and then hurry back to the centre to lavish 
their caresses on the Christian "child. Marinus spoke to them, 
and patted them as he was wont to treat the pet animals 
in his father's house. The Coliseum rang with mingled 
shouts of "Libertas," "Maleficium," "Mors," "Utquid 
plus ? " &c, and similar expressions familiar to the crowds 
of the amphitheatre. The prefect, confused and defeated, 



2l6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

scarcely knew what to do. Whilst the uproar was increas- 
ing among the populace, he ordered the lictors to remove 
the martyr, but they refused to enter the arena while 
the animals were free — even the keepers knew they would 
be torn to pieces if they interfered with the extraordinary 
child. At length signs were made to Marinus to come out, 
and the noble child led the animals to their den ; and no 
sooner were the heavy gates closed on them, than the lic- 
tors rushed on the helpless boy, and putting heavy chains 
on his little hands, led him away as if he were an infamous 
criminal. 

But our tale of wonder, of triumph, and of cruelty is not 
yet finished. Other miracles must render still more cele- 
brated the name of this infant Thaumaturgus. All Rome 
must witness him once more, as a proof of the divinity of 
the Christian religion. After his miraculous preservation 
in the Coliseum, the public mind was filled with interest 
about his future fate. Martianus feared lest the sympathy 
of the people might rouse their indignation against himself, 
and he hastened to convince them of the justice of his cru- 
elty to Marinus. He ordered him to be led immediately to 
the statue of Serapis, for the purpose of offering sacrifice. 
Thousands had already poured out of the Coliseum, and 
were rushing up to get a nearer view of the little hero, and 
join the immense crowd that was moving toward the statue 
of the Pagan god, whose idol was raised in the vicinity of 
the amphitheatre. 

An immense concourse had already taken up every avail- 
able spot around the statue of the idol ; all were filled with 
anxiety to see what would be the end of the senator's son. 
His beautiful and comely features, his youth, his modesty, 
and his rank, had excited universal admiration. Some 
Christians were in the crowd, and they almost wept aloud 
for joy at the constancy and triumph of the little martyr. 



THE SENATORS. 217 

Arrived at the statue of Serapis, Marinus was led into the 
middle of the circle which the troops had made among the 
people. A large pan of charcoal was burning at the foot 
of the statue, and the high priest of the Capitol stood near, 
holding the tripod in one hand and a box of incense in the 
other. Silence was commanded by a crier, and Martianus, 
in a coarse, loud voice commanded the boy to offer sacrifice. 

Behold ! Marinus is kneeling. Has he consented to pray 
to the senseless idol ? Is he afraid of further trials ? or has 
the grace of God abandoned him ? A breathless stillness 
reigns around ; the tyrant prefect believes he has at length 
subdued the proud spirit of the Christian child. Foolish 
thought ! Marinus was praying to the true God, his prayer 
had already pierced the clouds of heaven — its answer was 
the bolt of lightning that struck the idol of Serapis ; the 
people saw their god broken to pieces at the feet of a child. 
Some ran aw r ay terrified, others were riveted to the ground 
in wonder, while others cried out, "Great is the God of 
the Christians ! ' ' Many were brought to the light of the 
faith on that day, for God maketh use of the weak things 
of this world to confound the strong. 

Martianus had the martyr removed to prison. Almighty 
God heard the child's prayer to deliver him from the hands 
of his enemies, and prepared for him an everlasting crown. 
The prefect tried once more to take the little fellow's life, 
and ordered him to be beheaded ; this time he succeeded, 
and on the 26th of December, 284 of Christ, the pure soul 
of the brave Marinus took its flight to the realms of bliss. 
The wretched prefect ordered his body to be cast among 
the slaves, criminals, and gladiators who had been slain in 
the Coliseum. But the Christians were on the alert, and 
came to take it away by night. Finding guards had been 
set to watch, they prayed ; and God, who has a special 
providence over the relics of His saints, came to their 
19 



2 1 8 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

assistance. He sent a terrible storm of thunder and light- 
ning, and so frightened the Pagan guards that they fled 
from the Coliseum, and the Christians quietly removed the 
precious remains of the young martyr to the Catacombs. 

These relics have found their way back again, after the 
lapse of sixteen centuries, almost to the same spot from 
which they were taken by the Christians. On the ruins of 
the superb temple of Venus and Rome, designed and raised 
by the extravagant Adrian, there sprung up in the middle 
ages a beautiful little church, dedicated to the Blessed Vir- 
gin. It is now better known as the church of St. Frances 
of Rome. This church is but a few yards from the Coli- 
seum, and consequently quite near the site of the spoliorium 
where the bodies that were slain in the Coliseum were kept 
before burial. In this little church are now preserved the 
remains of Marinus, the Christian child-martyr. 1 

1 For the facts connected with the martyrdom of St. Marinus, see 
Rom. Martyrology, Dec. 26; Ferrari, Cat. Sanct, same day; Mom- 
britium, torn. ii. ; Petrus de Cat., lib. i., cap. 6, &c. 





CHAPTER XII. 



ST. MARTINA. 






HERE is nothing more delicate, more defence- 
less, or more beautiful, than the young girl 
whose virtue has never been sullied by the cor- 
rupt influence of the world. The peerless soul 
of the virgin is the brightest spot on earth, and the most 
pleasing to God. He has frequently, in the history of the 
world, chosen the weak and humble frame of girlhood for 
the most extraordinary manifestations of His power or of His 
goodness. He has sent, from time to time, beings who 
seemed to be angels clothed in human form, to attract us 
by the loveliness of virtue, and to show us the great mystery 
of love in which He unites Himself to the human soul. 
God has ever been wonderful in His saints, — He gave them 
His power when they asked it, and those extraordinary sus- 
pensions of the laws of nature which we call miracles were 
ordinary actions to them. But there was nothing so con- 
soling as the power, the consolation, and protection He 
imparted to the defenceless daughters of the Church in the 
terrible times of persecution. When dragged before tyrants 
for their faith and their virtue, He Himself took them, as 
it were, into His own hands, and made them not only 
triumph over the brutal rage of the Pagans, but made them 
apostles and witnesses of the divinity of Christianity, the 

219 



220 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

example, the glory, the crown of His Church. Their vir- 
ginal chastity was more dear to Him than the stars of 
heaven, and He invariably smote with the lightning of ven- 
geance the wretch that would dare to cast an unchaste look 
on those angels in human form. Although He permitted 
them to fall under the axe of the lictor, it was that their 
death might be the triumph of their chastity and their faith, 
and the commencement of their ineffable reward in the 
paradise of God. Neither persecutions, nor sufferings, nor 
torments of the most dreadful kind, nor yet the more 
powerful blandishments of the attractive but false joys of 
life, could ever induce the Christian female of the first cen- 
turies to yield up her right to the sublimest titles that heaven 
has given to earth, — Christian and Virgin. The triumph 
of the youthful martyrs was the most perfect and absolute 
that history knows ; but could it be otherwise ? It was the 
triumph of Him who reigns in the highest heavens, who 
laughs at the malice of His enemies, and against whom 
nations rage in vain. 

But whilst we look back in admiration at the thrilling 
and sublime lessons of heroism and virtue given to us by 
the Christian heroes of the early ages, a secret feeling of 
regret steals over us that these days of triumph are gone. 
The seductions, the blandishments, the immoralities of our 
days of peace and repose have been more destructive than 
the fire, or sword, or wild beasts of the Pagans. It is rare 
to find now-a-days a true virgin, — one who would suffer 
death rather than permit the slightest breath of corruption 
to sully the brilliancy of the gem of chastity. Alas ! what 
the rack, the scourge, or brutal violence could not touch in 
the days of the past, may now be blasted by a look, a 
squeeze of the hand, or a playful liberty ; the corrupt in- 
fluence of the worldly, and very often even irreligious, edu- 
cation permitted by the careless and indifferent parents of 



ST. MARTINA. 221 

these times, has swept away the safeguards of modesty, and 
our children have lost their treasure ere they have known 
to prize it. But woe to the wretch who allows himself to 
become the instrument of Satan for the destruction of in- 
nocence ! He will sink into the awful torments of hell, 
deeper than the impious Ulpian, who plotted the ruin and 
shed the blood of the glorious Virgin Martina. But let us 
come to her interesting history. 

Although Martina suffered under Alexander Severus, he 
was not guilty of her blood. Severus was but a boy of 
thirteen when he came to the throne, but he had a mother 
who has been extolled by both Pagan and Christian histo- 
rians as the honor and glory of the Empire. Giulia Mamea 
was one of the few remarkable women that figure in the 
history of these times ; she enjoyed the friendship of Ori- 
gen, and it was the wisdom and knowledge of this great 
master, aided by her natural virtue and talent, that ren- 
dered the reign of Alexander Severus one of the most popu- 
lar and prosperous the Romans had seen for more than a 
hundred years. There is every reason to believe that she 
had embraced Christianity before she was murdered, to- 
gether with her son, by the infamous Maximinian. The 
virtues of this young Emperor formed a contrast with the 
vices of his predecessors. He was attached to the Chris- 
tians, and had an image of Jesus Christ among the penates 
or gods of his own palace. It is recorded that he even in- 
tended to erect a temple to Him, and have Him recognized 
by the Senate as one of the gods of Rome. But he was 
dissuaded from his purpose by one of his courtiers. What 
Sejanus was in the reign of Tiberius, this unworthy favorite 
was to the Emperor Severus ; he bore, moreover, the name 
of a tyrant, whose cruelty and impiety he seemed to imitate ; 
this was Domitian Ulpian. The clemency of the mother 
and her son, and the fear of losing the imperial favor, 
19* 



222 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

made him restrain his hatred of the unoffending Christians; 
yet he endeavored to vilify and misrepresent them, and 
even compiled a book of all the laws and condemnations 
.issued by former Emperors against them; and sending a 
copy to each of the governors of the provinces, directed 
them to enforce these laws of the Empire, promising to 
hold them harmless for so doing. As he was the highest 
in esteem and learning, he was appointed prefect during the 
absence of Giulia Mamea and her son, and he availed him- 
self of his brief reign of power to vent his rage against the 
Christians. Some of the noblest and wealthiest virgins of 
the Empire were the first victims of his rage. The young, 
the beautiful, and virtuous Martina was one of these victims. 
Martina was the only child of one of the consuls of the 
Empire. She lost her parents in her infancy, and inherited 
an immense fortune. Sentiments of virtue and piety had 
been instilled into her young mind by her Christian parents, 
so that she had learned almost in infancy the sublime les- 
sons of the Christian school. Knowing the danger of riches, 
and wishing to give herself entirely to God, one of her first 
acts was to distribute her wealth to the poor. Her- fortune 
and position were well known to Ulpian, but as soon as the 
fame of her extraordinary charity reached his ears, he sus- 
pected her to be a Christian. The sublime self-denial and 
charity taught by the law of Christ was considered foolish- 
ness by the Pagans, and, as our Blessed Lord had intended, 
His disciples were known by their charity. Ulpian had for 
some time cast an evil eye on the orphan virgin, and find- 
ing all his designs on her wealth and virtue thwarted and 
rejected with indignation by Martina, his guilty passion 
turned into rage and cruelty, and he ordered her to be 
brought to the temple to offer sacrifice to the gods, so that, 
in case of a refusal, she might fall completely under his 
power. Two lictors were sent from the imperial palace to 



ST. MARTINA. 223 

seize the Christian virgin, and bring her before the prefect. 
She refused to offer sacrifice to the idols of Rome. Ulpian 
determined, in the foolish pride of his heart, to conquer 
the resolution of the young girl, and he ordered the lictors 
to scourge her until she should consent to offer sacrifice to 
the gods. Her delicate and tender flesh was torn with 
whips loaded with iron. But God was pleased to favor His 
spouse with consolations which rendered her insensible to 
the excruciating tortures of her body. Finding she would 
not yield, he ordered her to be suspended from the yoke, 
and her flesh to be torn with iron hooks and other instru- 
ments of torture. Several hours were spent in vain by the 
brutal executioners to shake the resolution of the tender vir- 
gin, and when they had given up their fruitless task, and 
left the delicate frame of their victim torn, bleeding, and 
exhausted, the hour of triumph had come for Martina, and 
that of retribution for her executioners. Not that her 
prayers had called down the lightning of heaven to smite 
the inhuman wretches that scourged her, but, in the midst 
of her sufferings, she poured forth the prayer of Christian 
charity for the conversion of her executioners. She was 
led once more by the orders of Ulpian to the temples of 
Diana and Apollo to offer sacrifice, when, behold, a fire 
descends from heaven and consumes them to ashes, and 
the very statues of these false deities melt at the secret wish 
of Martina. The same power that destroyed the idols sent 
a ray of light into the hearts of her executioners ; they im- 
mediately recognized the great and true God, and declared 
themselves Christians ; they suffered a glorious martyrdom 
in the very presence of Martina, who was reserved for 
greater triumphs. The tyrant prefect, who was hardened 
by vice and blinded by passion, sought only how he could 
inflict new torments on the Christian virgin j and knowing 
her tender flesh was torn by the scourges, and was still 



224 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

fresh and bleeding, he ordered boiling oil and pitch to be 
poured over her lacerated body ; but he might as well have 
tried to remove the seven hills of Rome as make Martina 
change her faith. That which the tyrant intended as a fresh 
punishment became a source of her greater glory and 
triumph. They saw her surrounded with a halo of glory, a 
delicious odor issued from her wounds, and at times she 
was raised from the ground in an ecstasy of heavenly joy. 
When all these things were reported to Ulpian, he was filled 
with confusion and rage, and he determined to have her 
devoured by the wild beasts in the amphitheatre, and before 
the entire populace of Rome. This he imagined was the 
most degrading death he could select for her ; because she 
was a noble lady of the first blood of the Empire, and none 
but slaves and criminals of the worst kind were subjected 
to this ignominious fate ; but God intended it to show His 
power in His humble servant. 

Martina spent the night in a gloomy prison. She enjoyed 
the consolations of divine love in her soul, and angels were 
sent to keep her company. It was near midday on the 
ioth of February of the year 228 when the noble virgin was 
taken from the prison to the amphitheatre. Every bench 
is full, the last loud burst of applause has died away through 
the palaces and seven hills of the city ; the combat betweep 
the gladiators is over, and the " editor" of the games an- 
nounces, in the midst of breathless silence, that the next 
amusement will consist in exposing to the wild beast a Chris- 
tian maiden who has refused to sacrifice to the gods of the 
Empire. A terrible burst of applause shakes the walls of 
the mighty edifice ; some poor Christians are present in 
disguise ; they had heard that their beloved benefactress had 
fallen into the hands of the tyrant, and was condemned to 
the beasts. They bend their heads in silent prayer that God 
would strengthen His servant, and they wipe away the warm 



ST. MAX TINA. 225 

tear that is stealing down the cheek. The order is given, 
and the soldiers lead Martina into the arena. She is a 
young girl, probably of thirteen or fourteen years of age ; her 
arms are crossed on her breast, and a blush of modesty has 
crimsoned her cheek, as she knows the rude crowd are gazing 
on her. The white sand of the arena scarcely yields to her 
delicate tread ; she steps over a pool of fresh blood — the 
life-stream of the last gladiator that has fallen ; a shudder 
passes through her frame, but a short prayer for strength 
has calmed her throbbing heart. Her hair is long and 
beautiful, but untressed; she is cheerful, and walks with an 
air of fortitude and confidence. (But the people know 
nothing of what she has suffered already.) The word flies 
through the assembled thousands that she is the daughter 
of a consul, and the interest and delight of the brutal pop- 
ulace increase in proportion as they recognize her nobility 
and beauty. 

But there bounds a captive lion into the arena. He looks 
around in surprise, the human element is too near him; 
with the thunder of his mighty roar, with which he has 
often wakened up his native forests, he laments his captivity, 
for he sees he is still a prisoner. His eyes are darting fire 
with hunger, rage, and disappointment. Suddenly he sees 
a figure in his own domain, — 'tis Martina kneeling and 
rapt in prayer. Hunger recalls his native ferocity, and, 
with bristling mane, he prepares for a desperate bound to- 
wards her. A death - like stillness reigns around ; every 
head is stretched forward, every eye fixed on the arena ; an 
involuntary shudder passes through every frame, for they 
fancy each moment the lion is devouring his victim. But 
lo ! what do they see ? The king of the forest is gambolling 
around the little girl ; he licks her feet ; she strokes him 
on the head and mane ; he lies down beside her like a lap- 
dog, caressed by its mistress. There was a great and un- 



226 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

seen Spectator looking at Martina in the Coliseum ; it was 
He who closed the mouths of the lions when Daniel was 
cast into their den. Another lion was let loose, and it acted 
in the same manner. Martina called on the Pagans to recog- 
nize the power of the God of the Christians, and thousands 
of the people left the Coliseum that morning proclaiming 
the sanctity of the noble virgin, while others determined to 
abandon immediately the worship of the false gods. Not 
so Ulpian. He writhed with disappointment and passion 
at his public defeat; he attributed her preservation to witch- 
craft, and ordered the virgin to be burned alive. But the 
flames had no power to touch her ; not even a shred of her 
garment was burnt. Yet it was the will of Almighty God 
that Martina should receive the crown of martyrdom, and 
when he had sufficiently proved to the wicked and cruel 
people of Rome their inability to contend against Him, He 
heard the prayer of His spouse to take her to Himself. Her 
martyrdom was effected thus. 

There was at a short distance from the Coliseum an edi- 
fice which served as an auxiliary in its religious character. 
The amphitheatre may be regarded in some respect as a 
great temple. It was dedicated to Jupiter, and Bacchus, 
and Apollo ; the very games and spectacles were frequently 
celebrated in honor of some of the gods. A smaller tem- 
ple, which stood about two hundred yards from the amphi- 
theatre itself, served for the ordinary rites and sacrifices. 
This temple was dedicated to the goddess of the earth. 
Antiquaries say it stood where we now see the remnants of 
a tower of the Middle Ages designated " Torre del Conti," 
between the Piazza della Carette and the Rua Alesandria. 
This spot, now neglected and almost unknown, has some 
sacred memories hovering around it that must render it 
dear to the Christian pilgrimage to the Eternal City. Here 
many martyrs won their imperishable crown. This temple 



ST. MARTINA. 2 2J 

is said to have served from time to time for the assemblies 
of the Senate, and for the tribunal chair of a praetor ; and 
being in the very heart of the ancient city, and near the 
Coliseum, it was the spot to which the Christians were most 
frequently taken to offer sacrifice. Before, this temple was 
a monument which witnessed the cruellest and bloodiest 
scenes of those terrible times. Its very name of Accursed 
or Criminal Stone (Petra Scelerata) tells of the horror in 
which it was held by the people themselves. It was a sort 
of elevated stage, on which there was an immense slab of 
marble, where public malefactors and criminals were gener- 
ally executed. It is unnecessary to remind our reader that 
in the days of persecution the Christians were put on a par 
with the lowest class of criminals ; and here some of the 
noblest blood of the early Church was shed in testimony 
of our faith. Here were martyred the Popes Sixtus and 
Cornelius, and the Persian martyrs Abdon and Sennen. 
The senator Julius was dragged here naked and in chains, 
and was flogged until death released his spirit from the 
prison of flesh ; and his body was left exposed to the pub- 
lic gaze for several days. From this spot a whole host of 
Christian martyrs were sent to heaven ; not the least re- 
markable was Martina. Having been condemned by Ulpian 
to be beheaded, she was taken here to be executed. A 
herald first mounted the Petra Scelerata, as was the custom, 
and announced to the people that Martina was condemned 
because she was a Christian. The moment the fatal stroke 
had fallen on her neck, a voice was heard calling her to 
everlasting joy, and the whole city was shaken by an earth- 
quake, so that many temples were ruined, and great num- 
bers of the people were converted. 

When the storm of persecution had passed over, and the 
labarum of Constantine was planted with universal joy on 
the Capitol, the sacred memories and traditions of the 



228 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Christians found expression in all the pomp of external 
worship. They had watched in silent and jealous care the 
spots where the martyrs had shed their blood, and the mo- 
ment liberty was proclaimed on the bronze plates on the 
walls of the Capitol, they flocked in hundreds to those sa- 
cred places ; and in a short time superb edifices sprung up 
to commemorate the triumph of the martyred heroes. 
Nearly all the great churches of Rome have some sacred 
reminiscences around their foundations that lead us back to 
the scenes of the first three centuries. St. Peter's, the 
noblest and most complete building ever raised by man, 
has been erected on the spot where the great Apostle was 
martyred, or, as some say, the crypt where his body was 
preserved. There are records of a sanctuary and pilgrim- 
ages, and even martyrdoms, from the first century, around 
this sacred shrine, that modern devotion has enriched with 
all the magnificence that wealth and art can produce. 
Among the saints whose memory the ancient Christians of 
Rome loved and venerated with a special devotion, there 
were three Virgins who bore an extraordinary similarity to 
each other in age, condition, sufferings, and miracles. 
They were Prisca, Martina, and Agnes. They were all of 
consular or noble families. They were persecuted for the 
faith at the tender age of thirteen ; each of them suffered 
attacks on their chastity as well as their faith, and Almighty 
God made them the instruments of the most stupendous 
miracles, the defeat and confusion of their persecutors, and 
the conversion of innumerable souls. Three beautiful 
churches, which now form the three points of a triangle, 
sprang up over the places where they were martyred, or 
their relics were preserved ; and through the long lapse of 
seventeen centuries, and the ever-swelling tide of war and 
destruction that has since then rolled around the fallen yet 
everlasting city, the records, the relics, and the imperish- 



ST. MARTINA. 22$ 

able devotion of the people have been preserved, and 
passed from generation to generation, and are to this very- 
day the honor and the pride of faithful Christian Rome. 
Almost in the heart of the ancient Forum there was erected 
a beautiful little church, and dedicated to the Virgin Mar- 
tina. When, after the lapse of nearly ten centuries, the 
walls of this little church were tottering through decay, the 
devotion and memory of the saint was as fresh and strong 
as in the days that saw the erection of this monument of 
piety. It was rebuilt in the thirteenth, and again in the 
sixteenth century, when the relics of the saint, together 
with those of three other martyrs, were found. The sub- 
terranean chapel of this little church is a gem of architec- 
tural beauty ; it was the design and gift of the celebrated 
artist Pietro da Cortona. Here we have often knelt at the 
shrine of the young, beautiful, and virtuous Martina, and 
prayed that, through her intercession, there might be re- 
flected in our actions that sublime virtue which shone so 
brilliantly in her life. 

20 





CHAPTER XIII. 

THE PERSIAN KINGS. 




HE Coliseum has been steeped even with the blood 
of kings. Slaves, soldiers, generals, noble vir- 
gins, senators, bishops and kings, all have sancti- 
fied its arena with their miracles or their blood. 
But by what strange combination of circumstances was it 
that the life-stream of crowned heads should deepen the 
crimson dye of that terrible spot ? Were they Pagans and 
tyrants, who were dragged here by ruthless and revengeful 
mobs, and pierced by a thousand daggers, or torn to pieces 
by men maddened like lions, in retribution of their cruelty 
and crimes ? No, it is not so ; we are still in the days of 
the terrible persecutions of the early Church, and the sub- 
jects of the present chapter are Christian martyrs, who suf- 
fered for the faith in the Coliseum in the first half of the 
third century. Before relating the circumstances of their 
martyrdom, it may be useful to make a few historical re- 
marks, taken from the annals of those times. 

The power of the Empire is sinking fast. The mighty 
wave of time is rolling sensibly over the city of gold and 
marble, and the great dynasty that was thought to be im- 
perishable is showing signs of decay. Almighty God has 
passed sentence on the impious city, and, in the most dread- 
ful of all His judgments, He allows its blinded inhabitants 

230 



THE PERSIAN KINGS. 2$ t 

not only to accelerate, but also to increase, its terrible re- 
tribution. The picture of crime, of cruelty, and blood- 
shed which represents the last half century preceding the 
triumph of Constantine, is the darkest and most thrilling, 
not only in the history of Rome, but of the world itself. 
At the time we are now writing of (a. d. 240), the whole 
Empire was shaken by internal convulsions and civil wars. 
In the brief space of three years, four Emperors, after sit- 
ting for a short time in anxiety and misery on the throne 
of the Caesars, were dragged by violence from their ill- 
gotten power, and closed their short-lived career of ambi- 
tion and crime by a terrible and well-merited death. But 
as all this internal trouble and confusion naturally impeded 
the progress of Christianity, Almighty God was pleased to 
give His apostles and servants an opportunity of scattering 
the holy seeds of the gospel ; and that they might take 
firm root in the souls of men, He sent a few years of sun- 
shine and calm. To use a homely simile, the little bark 
of Peter, tossed about by so many tempests and adverse 
winds, was brought into port to prepare its rigging and sails 
for another and more terrible storm ; billows of blood will 
flow around her before long. Not only did the protecting 
providence of God give peace and calm to the Empire, 
but it placed a Christian Emperor on the throne of the 
Caesars. We do not allude to Constantine, nor to the Em- 
perors who reigned after the final triumph of the Church ; 
— we are still seventy years before the dawn of that bright 
period, and there are five of the most cruel and blood- 
thirsty persecutions the Church ever suffered yet before 
her; — but we allude to the Emperor Philip, who succeeded 
Gordianus III, He was not only favorable and generous 
towards the Christians, but was himself a Christian. 

When the Emperor Gordianus III. ascended the throne, 
he was but a young man, under the guidance of his pre- 



232 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ceptor, Misithes. He had a prosperous reign of six years. 
His docility, natural probity, and amiable disposition, united 
with the skill and prudence of his virtuous preceptor, made 
him dear to the whole Empire. Even the success and tri- 
umph which fortune had given to his military enterprises, 
made his reign a real sunshine in those days of revolt and 
trouble. In the year 243, while away on an expedition 
against the Goths, and the ever-restless and unsubdued Per- 
sians, his good preceptor died, and Julius Philippus suc- 
ceeded Misithes in the praetorship, one of the most important 
offices in the State. Ambition entered the heart of Philip, 
and he determined to obtain the command of the Empire. 
He knew Gordian was too much beloved by the soldiers to 
make them betray him, and he resolved upon his assassina- 
tion. For this purpose he hired a wretch, and the bloody 
deed was effected. Philip was declared Emperor in 244. 
On Easter Eve in the same year, Philip was in Antioch with 
his wife, Severa, and they repaired to the Catholic church 
to join in the public prayers in preparation for the great 
festival. The holy Bishop Babilas was at this time in the see 
of Antioch ; and having heard that the Emperor was coming 
to the church, he stood at the porch, and refused him ad- 
mission. With the courage and zeal of an apostle, he bade 
the Emperor go and do penance, for the blood of his mur- 
dered victim called to heaven for vengeance. The holy 
Bishop repulsed him with his own hand, and would not 
permit him to enter except in the garb of a public penitent 
of the Church. Philip humbled himself before the aged 
Bishop, he confessed his crimes, and voluntarily accepted 
the penance which the minister of God imposed on him, 
and thus was permitted to enter the Church of the true God, 
before whom the crown and tattered garment are alike. 
Eusebius, in his sixth book and thirty-fourth chapter, speak- 
ing of this strange event, says : " Gordian ruled the Roman 



THE PERSIAN KINGS. 233 

Empire for six full years; Philip, together with his son 
Philip, succeeded to him. He, being a Christian (the re- 
port is), wished to take part in the prayers of the Church 
on the eve of the Pasch with the rest of the people ; but the 
Bishop who then ruled the Church would not allow him to 
enter until he had made confession of his crimes, and placed 
himself among the public penitents. . . . And the Emperor 
is said cheerfully to have submitted ; and by his penance to 
have shown a sincere and religious fear of God. ' ' 

We cannot pass over the authority, much less the beauti- 
ful and powerful eloquence, of the great Chrysostom, in his 
panegyric on Babilas. Speaking of his brave and intrepid 
reproof of the sinful Emperor, he compares him to the 
apostle St. John; and alludes to the Emperor in words 
that leave no doubt of the tradition of the time in which he 
flourished. " Nor was he the mere tetrarch of a few cities," 
says St. Chrysostom, speaking of Philip (in Lib. in S. Bab. 
et contra Gentiles, No. 6), "nor the king of one nation 
only, but the ruler of the greater portion of the world — 
of nations, of cities, and a countless army, formidable on 
every side, from the boundless immensity of the Empire, 
and the severity of its power ; yet he was expelled from 
the church by the intrepid pastor, like a bad sheep that is 
driven from the flock. The subject becomes the ruler, and 
pronounces sentence of condemnation against him who 
commanded all. Alone and unarmed, his undaunted soul 
was filled with apostolic confidence. With what zeal was 
the ancient Bishop fired ! He commanded the satellites of 
the Emperor to depart. How fearlessly he spoke, and 
placed his right hand on that breast that was still glowing 
and bleeding with the remorse of recent guilt ! How he 
treated the murderer according to his merits! n &c. 

It is not our intention at present to discuss the question 
that has been raised by modern historians* whether Philip 
20* 



234 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

was a Christian or not. Nearly all the histories of the 
ancient Church, written in the English language, slur over 
the fact as if too extraordinary to be true, or too doubtful 
to be entertained for a moment. Yet the whole weight of 
ancient authority is in its favor. Men like Eusebius, St. John 
Chrysostom, Osorius, St. Vincent of Leirus, and Cassiodorus, 
were not likely to be the dupes of an idle tradition ; the fact 
is mentioned by numerous authors ; among others, Baronius 
writes as follows : 

" Pontius was raised to the prefectship, and was the 
friend and familiar of the Philips, the Emperors. On oc- 
casion of the celebration of the thousandth anniversary of 
the foundation of the city, they said to him, ' Let us go 
and propitiate the great gods who have brought us to this 
thousandth anniversary of the Roman city. ' But Pontius 
by many stratagems endeavored to escape, while they were 
forcing him as a friend to offer sacrifice. Believing an op- 
portunity was given to him by God, he said, 'Most devout 
Emperors ! since God has honored you with an august 
power over men, why do you not sacrifice to Him who has 
conferred such a favor upon you ? ' Philip the Emperor 
replied, ' That is precisely the reason why I wish to offer 
sacrifice to the great god Jupiter; because all my power is 
given to me by him.' Pontius, smiling, said, ' Be not de- 
ceived, O Emperor; there is an omnipotent God in the 
heavens, who built up everything by His only word, and 
gave life by His Spirit ! ' Moved by these and similar ex- 
hortations of the Saint, the Emperors believed and were 
baptized by Pope St. Fabian. Then Fabian and Pontius 
broke to pieces the idols in the temple of Jupiter, and razed 
the temple itself to the ground ; many of the people, being 
converted to the Lord, were purified by the saving waters." 
(See Baronius, a. d. 246, No. 9; and the Bollandists, 14th 
of May, &c.) 



THE PERSIAN KINGS. 2$$ 

Whether he was a Christian or not, it is certain the Church 
enjoyed a profound peace. For nearly thirty years she had 
been gathering strength, as the persecutions from the time 
of Severus were only partial, and fell more on individuals 
than on the great bulk of the people. 

On every side schools and great centres of learning sprang 
up, and the Church seemed to be lifting up her head with 
honor and triumph. The East ■ was specially gifted with 
men who shone like stars of science and eloquence. Some 
of the greatest names in the history of the Church flourished 
in this period. Here was the great Pope Fabian, in the 
chair of St. Peter ; there was Babilas in Antioch, Diony- 
sius of Alexandria, the eloquent Cyprian at Carthage, the 
Thaumaturgus, or wonder-working Gregory of Neo-Cae- 
sarea, and St. Firmilian of Cappadocia. Then there were 
Origen, Pionius, and many others, who adorned the differ- 
ent grades of the hierarchy with learning and zeal. 

Churches sprang up in every place, and assemblies were 
held in public ; the principal emoluments of the Empire 
were conferred on Christians. St. Gregory of Nyssa, 
speaking of St. Gregory Thaumaturgus, says, that, "By the 
preaching and zeal of that great Bishop, not only his city, 
but the whole country round, had embraced the true faith; 
the altars and temples of the false gods were hurled to the 
ground, and there churches erected, and the people were 
purified from the contamination of unclean sacrifices." 
(In Oratione de St. Greg. Thaum., towards the end.) 
Thus the faith had spread far through the East; Cappa- 
docia, Pannonia, and Syria were nearly entirely Catholic ; 
and Persia, on the confines of those territories, was also 
bearing fruit to the preaching of the apostle St. Thomas, 
and was at this time, like its sister provinces around, a most 
flourishing portion of the garden of the Church. Kings 
and nobles had embraced the faith, and when the persecu- 



236 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

tion broke out, Persia sent many noble martyrs to heaven. 
Among these, the virtues and constancy of the two kings or 
petty rulers who form the subject of this notice were not 
the least remarkable. They were seized in the persecution 
of 250, brought to Rome, and martyred in the Coliseum. 

The hour of sunshine and peace is now drawing to a 
close, and the year 250 opened, even on its first day, with 
one of the most terrible persecutions that the Church had 
suffered. The blessings and repose of peace had relaxed 
the morals of the Christians, and it pleased Almighty God 
to purify them once more by the fire of persecution. The 
great Bishop of Carthage, who was secreted in exile during 
the few months that the storm raged, describes the sad 
causes that drew once more the terrible sword over the 
Christian community. " Almighty God," says the great 
Doctor, " wished to prove His family; for the blessings of 
a long peace had corrupted the divine discipline given to 
us ; our sleeping and prostrate faith roused, if I may so 
speak, the celestial anger. And although we deserved 
more for our sins, yet the clement and merciful Lord so 
acted that what has passed has been more a probation than 
a persecution. The whole world was rapt in temporal in- 
terests, and Christians forgot the glorious things that were 
done in the days of the Apostles ; instead of rivalling their 
brilliant example, they burned with the desire of the empty 
riches of the world, and strained every nerve to increase 
their wealth. Piety and religion were banished from the 
lives of the priests, and fidelity and integrity were no 
longer found in the ministers of the altar ; charity and dis- 
cipline of morals were no longer visible in their flocks. 
The men combed their beards, and the women painted 
their faces ; their very eyes were tinted, and their hair told 
a lie. To deceive the simple, they used fraud and subtlety, 
and even Christians deceived each other by knavery and 



. THE PERSIAN KINGS. 2tf 

underhand dealing. They intermarried with unbelievers 
and prostituted the members of Jesus Christ to Pagans. 
They scoffed at their prelates in their pride, and they tore 
each other to pieces with envenomed tongues, and seemed 
to destroy each other with a fatal hatred. They despised 
the simplicity and humility demanded by faith, and per- 
mitted themselves to be guided by the impulses of worthless 
vanity ; they contemned the world only in words. Did we 
not deserve, then, the dreadful horrors of persecution that 
have burst upon us ? " 

The instrument of God's anger was Decius. He per- 
mitted this cruel usurper to hold for one year the power of 
the Caesars, for the glory and purification of His Church. 
Our blessed Lord had said in the garden of Gethsemane, 
that all that take the sword shall perish with the sword 
(Matt. xxvi. 52.) In His eternal decrees, He had prepared 
this judgment for Philip, who had unjustly drawn his sword 
against Gordian ; and by the "hand of a usurper he too 
must die. Toward the end of the year 249, intelligence 
was brought from the East to Rome that Iotapian and Pris- 
cus had been declared Emperors by a part of the army. 
The revolt was soon quelled and the usurpers killed ; but 
the spirit of revolution had spread like a pestilence, and 
another and more formidable rival appeared in Decius, 
who was declared Emperor by the great bulk of the army, 
then on the confines of Pannonia. Philip met him with a 
much larger force near the walls of Verona ; a desperate 
battle ensued, in which the Emperor was slain. No sooner 
was the news of his defeat brought to Rome, than the prae- 
torians murdered the son of Philip, and declared Decius 
Emperor ; but they little knew the character of the man to 
whom they were committing their property, their honor, 
and their lives. He entered Rome in triumph, and one 
of his first imperial acts was to issue edicts against the 
Christians. 



238 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Decius seemed determined to destroy the very name of 
Christian, and his edicts were as cruel as those which had 
issued from Nero or Domitian. He affected an indignation 
that amounted to almost frenzy against the Romans, be- 
cause they had abandoned the worship of their gods, and 
permitted the progress of the hated Christianity. "He 
imagined," says St. Gregory of Nyssa, "by cruelty and 
bloodshed to resist the power of God, to overturn the 
Church of Christ, and prevent the further preaching of the 
mysteries of the gospel. Thus he sent edicts to all the 
rulers of the provinces, threatening them with the most 
dreadful torments if they did not endeavor to exterminate 
the Christian name, and bring the people back again to the 
worship of the devils of the Empire.' ' He found willing 
agents in his magistrates, and so warmly did they take up 
the terrible declaration against the unoffending Christians, 
that, according to the same authority, all public business 
was suspended for some time that they might carry out the 
terrible decrees. The prisons could not hold the multi- 
tudes that were seized ; and while some were put to death 
by the most cruel torments in the public squares, others 
found a home in the deserts. " Nor was there mercy for 
childhood or age, but all, as in a city taken by a cruel and 
enraged enemy, were handed over to torture and death ; 
not even the natural weakness of the female sex was pitied, 
that they at least might be freed from excruciating tortures ; 
the same terrible law of cruelty raged against everything 
that was considered adverse to the idols." (S. Greg, of 
Nyssa, toward the end of sermon on S. Greg. Thaumatur- 
gus.) 

It seems somewhat doubtful whether our saints, Abdon 
and Sennen, who suffered in the Coliseum during this perse- 
cution, were brought from Persia by force, or had come, 
like many other Persian nobles, through a sense of devotion 



THE PERSIAN KINGS. 239 

or curiosity, to the great Roman capital. The Acts adopted 
by the Bollandists state they were brought thither in chains 
by Decius himself. The Emperor was not in Persia, al- 
though he set out on an expedition towards the East, in 
which he was slain ; but this might have happened under 
Gordian, as Decius was then a commander of the army, 
and subdued a revolt on the confines of Persia. The re- 
mainder of the Acts is received as genuine. As they tell 
the tale of the sufferings of those noble youths in beautiful 
and simple language, we will give them almost word for 
word. 

When Decius arrived in Rome, he ordered the Senate to 
be assembled, and the Persian youths to be brought before 
him. They were brought in in chains, and bore the marks 
of the cruelty with which they had been treated ; they wore 
the royal insignia of their power, the gold and precious 
stones and splendor of their embroidered garments con- 
trasting sadly with the heavy chains of criminals that bound 
their hands and feet. The whole Senate looked on them 
with pity. Almighty God had cast around His servants a 
majesty and a celestial beauty that struck the bystanders 
with awe and respect. Decius, rising up, addressed the 
Senate in these words : " Conscript fathers ! be it known 
to your august assembly, that the gods and goddesses have 
delivered into our hands the most inveterate enemies of the 
Empire. Behold the wretches before you." And when a 
murmur had passed through the assembly, all were silent 
through fear, and they seemed to regard the young noble- 
men with sympathy. Then Decius commanded the high 
priest, named Claudius, to be brought from the Capitol, in 
order to make them sacrifice. 

When he was come, Decius said to them, " If you sacri- 
fice now, you can remain in the liberty of kings, and enjoy 
your possessions in increased honor and power under the 



240 / THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

great Empire of Rome. Take care how you refuse. ' ' But 
Abdon answered for himself and his companion, and said, 
" We have offered sacrifice and homage, though unworthily, 
to our Lord Jesus Christ ; we shall never sacrifice to your 
false gods." Decius cried out to the lictors and attendants, 
' ' Let the severest torments be prepared for these wretches, 
md let fierce lions and bears tear them to pieces." Abdon 
bravely answered, " Do not delay the execution of thy sen- 
tence ; we are longing to possess our Lord Jesus Christ, who 
is able, when He willeth, to destroy thyself and thy wicked 
machinations against His Church." 

Decius ordered a public manifestation to be made in the 
amphitheatre, that all might see the fate of the royal Chris- 
tians. On the day appointed, they were brought before the 
Temple of the Sun, to try if they would offer sacrifice. 
They were roughly dragged before the idol by the soldiers, 
but they spat on it with contempt. They were then stripped 
of their garments, and scourged. After this they were 
brought into the Coliseum to be devoured by wild beasts. 
While entering into the arena, they said aloud, " Thanks 
be to God, we are going to our crown ; ' ' and making the 
sign of the cross, they began to pray. Some bears and two 
lions were let into the arena, but they came bellowing to 
the feet of the martyrs, and not only would not touch them, 
but would not leave them, and even prevented the keepers 
from approaching the holy servants of God. Seeing this, 
Valerian cried out, "They have some magic power about 
them; let the gladiators slay them." And the gladiators 
entered with spears and slew them ; and their bodies were 
tied together, and were cast before the Temple of the Sun, 
alongside the amphitheatre, and were left there as a terror to 
the Christians for three days. On the third night, the Chris- 
tian Quirinus, a sub-deacon, who remained near the amphi- 
theatre all the time, watching an opportunity to take the 



THE PERSIAN KINGS. 24 1 

bodies, succeeded in bringing them to his own house. He 
respectfully wrapped them in fine linen, and inclosed them 
in a leaden case. Their bodies were thus preserved until 
the time of Constantine. 

The spot where they are supposed to have been laid is 
now under the Passionists' garden on the Ccelian. But God 
would not have the remains or the memory of such great 
martyrs entirely lost to the world. During the reign of 
Constantine, when He had displayed to His infant Church 
in Rome the rainbow of peace and prosperity, He admon- 
ished a holy priest in a vision where he would find the re- 
mains of SS. Abdon and Sennen, and they were removed 
to the cemetery of Pontiano, or ad Ursum Pileatum, as it was 
known in the early days of the Church. The beautiful and 
ancient Church of St. Bibiana is erected over this cemetery. 
When Gregory IV. was restoring the venerable Church of St. 
Mark in the ninth century, he had the bodies of these two 
great saints removed, and they are justly enumerated among 
the great treasures with which Gregory enriched that church. 
Relics were sent to Florence, and also some to France ; 
but the larger portion of their remains is still preserved in 
the confessional of St. Mark's, awaiting the hour in which 
they will be united again to the brave spirits that animated 
them, to assist in the judgment of the wicked world that 
condemned them. 

21 Q 






CHAPTER XIV. 

THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN, 
T. 

HE events we are about to relate took place in 
the year 259 of the Christian era. The Em- 
perors Valerian and Gallienus had usurped the 
throne, and under their tyrannical rule a terrible 
persecution burst upon the Church. Scarcely in any other 
reign of the two hundred and fifty years that had passed 
over the Church are there to be found such visible inter- 
positions of Divine Providence for the glory of His mar- 
tyrs and the humiliation of His enemies. The thunders of 
heaven rolled over the heads of the persecutors, the earth 
shook beneath their feet, and their idols were melted like 
lead in a furnace at the prayers of the martyrs ; yet the 
stream of blood flowed on, and the angels were daily and 
hourly carrying aloft the peerless spirits of the triumphant 
Christians to the abodes of peace and joy. 

There never was a time in the history of the Empire 
when the people were so visited by public calamities as 
during the reigns of Gallus and Valerian. Inundations, 
fires, and earthquakes had decimated whole provinces, and 
destroyed cultivated lands and beautiful cities ; famine and 
pestilence joined in the war of extermination, and the sighs 

242 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 243 

of grief were heard on every side. As might have been 
expected, the Christians were blamed for all the calamities 
of the Empire. The Evil One spoke through the oracles 
on the Capitol, and fired the public mind against the " de- 
tested religion," which was now spreading on every side. 
The persecution came ; but the circumstances that brought 
it about were peculiar. 

For the first three years of his reign, the rule of the Em- 
peror Valerian was mild and pacific. He was in a particu- 
lar manner partial to the Christians. In public and private 
he showed them respect and favor, and the Church flourished 
on every side. " Before the persecution," says Eusebius, 
the great historian of the early history of the Church, 
"Valerian was gentle and kind toward the servants of 
God. Not one of the former Emperors — not even he 
who was publicly recognized as a Christian (Philip, a. d. 
244) : — showed such favor toward us as this prince in the 
commencement of his reign. His household was filled with 
Christians, and appeared to be a Church of Jesus Christ 
rather than a palace of a Roman Emperor." (Book vii. 
chap, x.) 

But among the courtiers was a man named Macrian. He 
was of low birth, but had some pretensions to learning, 
and being well skilled in sorcery and magic, he ingratiated 
himself into favor with the Emperor. Avarice, ambition, 
and cruelty had taken possession of his soul. He aimed 
at the supreme power, and longed to gratify the base pro- 
pensities of his heart, by shedding the blood of the Chris- 
tians, whom he hated without a cause. It is supposed that 
the demons, who are permitted to influence men through 
the black art, intimated to Macrian that he could never at- 
tain the realization of his ambitious hopes as long as Valerian 
was a friend to the Christians. He set himself with cruel 
ingenuity to pervert the noble and generous disposition of 



244 the Martyrs of the coliseum. 

the peaceful Emperor, and history tells the terrible tale of 
his success, He commenced by telling him of the wonders 
of magic ; how it could unveil the future and guide the 
present in the paths of the highest prosperity, and was the 
talisman of wealth, power, and glory. The unthinking 
Valerian was caught like a fly in poisoned honey. Under 
the counsels of his impious preceptor, he began to believe 
that lessons of wisdom were written on the entrails of new- 
born infants, and that the terrible secrets of the unknown 
future might be deciphered in the life-streams of the heart's 
blood. His first victim was a new-born child. In blinded 
fanaticism he bent over the reeking entrails of the infant to 
trace in its scarlet fibres the language of prophecy and 
knowledge. The jaundiced eye sees everything one color; 
so when passion rules predominant in the soul, every 
thought is moulded to its form, and the noble faculties of 
the intellect and will lend their services to its gratification. 
Thus Valerian thought he saw in the horrible practices of 
magic the unveiled sources of knowledge and power. It is 
not to be wondered at that, under the guidance of the im- 
pious Macrian, he found out that the gods (the devils) were 
not pleased with the Christian sect ; and as one abyss calls 
on another, he fell into the lowest depths of cruelty, in- 
tolerance, and fanaticism. The end of the year 251 found 
Valerian one of the most cruel and unfeeling persecutors 
of the Church. 

During the days of peace that preceded this persecution, 
Almighty God vouchsafed to the holy St. Cyprian, Bishop 
of Carthage, a knowledge of the terrible time that was 
coming. The learned Bishop wrote to several Churches 
to prepare them for the storm. In his sublime exhortation 
to martyrdom, in his letter to the Thibaritans, he says : 
" Instructed by the light which the Lord has deigned to give 
us, we must forewarn your souls by the solicitude of our 






THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 245 

admonition ; for you must know, and hold for certain, that 
a day of terrible trial is about to dawn, — the time of Anti- 
christ is at hand. We must all stand prepared for the 
battle, and think of naught but the crown of glory, and the 
ineffable reward that will follow a brave confession of the 
faith. Nor are the trials that are coming like the past ; a 
severer and bloodier combat awaits us, for which the sol- 
diers of Christ must prepare by unflinching faith and un- 
sullied virtue, remembering they daily consume the blood 
of Christ that they may shed their blood for him." (St. 
Cyprian, Epis. 56, ad Thibaritanos, de Exhortat. Mart.) 
When the clouds that threatened the storm to the prophetic 
eye of Cyprian burst in the following year over the world 
in all the horrors of a bloody persecution, the great doctor 
himself was one of its most remarkable victims. He tells 
us, in another part of his works, when the persecution 
broke out, how the infuriate mob called aloud in the am- 
phitheatre of Carthage that he should be cast to the lions. 
As the highest buildings are the most exposed to the light- 
ning, so the Bishops and Fathers of the Church were the 
first victims of the persecution. In Rome, the great Pope 
Stephen was martyred while celebrating mass in the Cata- 
combs. It is from the Acts of this holy Pontiff we will 
quote just now some of the scenes connected with the 
Coliseum during this perecution. 

Although Almighty God permitted the persecution to 
try His Church, yet He prepared a terrible retribution for 
the injustice of His enemies. All the persecutors came to 
an untimely and miserable end. Perhaps not one of those 
tyrants who shed Christian blood was so humbled or ac- 
cursed as Valerian. " They have chosen their own way," 
says Almighty God, through the prophet Isaias, "and the 
abominations which their heart desired ; but I will show 
up their folly, and will repay them for their sins." (Isaias 
21 * 



246 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

lxvi. 3, 4.) The whole Empire participated in the curse 
that fell on the impious Valerian ; the accumulated evils 
of plagues, famines, earthquakes, and civil wars, swept like 
a tempest over the world, decimating the human race, and 
spreading terror and confusion on every side. The bar- 
barians who were on the borders of the provinces rushed 
in, as if by a preconcerted plan, on different portions of 
the Empire, and commenced to pillage and plunder all 
before them. Valerian was forced to turn his attention to 
more formidable enemies than the unoffending Christians. 
He organized the troops for war ; he sent his son Gallienus 
against the Germans, and his best and bravest captains to 
other portions of the Empire ; while he himself took the 
lead of the army against the Persians, who were now, as 
for many years past, the most formidable enemies of the 
Empire. Sapor, the King of the Persians, routed and de- 
stroyed the Roman army, and took the Emperor prisoner ; 
a terrible hour of retaliation had come for the cruel Valerian. 
He was dragged before the haughty Persian in chains, and 
still clothed in his magnificent robes of purple and gold. 
After having insulted him in the most cruel and barbarous 
manner, he was made to walk before the chariot of the 
Persian king, and thus brought through all the towns of 
the kingdom, to be insulted and ill-treated by the entire 
Persian people. The vilest slave could not have been 
treated with more contempt. Every time that Sapor 
wished to enter his chariot or mount his horse, Valerian 
was brought out and made to stoop down with his face to- 
ward the ground, so that the barbarian king might make a 
footstool of his back. After several years passed in the 
most horrible servility, in hunger, insult, and unceasing 
pain, a fate still more terrible awaited him. When his 
natural strength was failing, it was determined to anticipate 
death by the last and cruelest act of their revenge. He 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 2/tf 

was flayed alive, and his skin, stuffed with straw, was hung 
up in one of their temples as a monument of their triumph 
and revenge. Thus shall they perish who raise their arm 
against God ! 



Whilst Valerian was prosecuting his horrible and impure 
studies in magic, the Christians were aware. of the change 
that had come over his character, and prepared themselves 
for the impending storm. The Catacombs were opened 
again, and provisions were brought to those dreary abodes 
of the dead ; the altar and the tabernacle were shorn of their 
ornaments, and the dread mysteries were celebrated once 
more by the tombs of the martyrs in the gloomy passages 
underground. The catechumens were all baptized, and 
the faithful were exhorted and fortified by frequent com- 
munion and unceasing prayer. Valerian showed by many 
signs his altered feelings towards the Christians, and whilst 
he was premeditating a dreadful carnage of the followers 
of Christ, an heroic act of zeal and courage by one of the 
domestics of the palace roused the latent fire of his cruel 
and perverted heart, and unsheathed the sword for the 
bloodshed of thousands. One day a poor woman was seen 
weeping and distracted with grief outside the gates of the 
royal palace. A Christian servant of the household was 
passing, and learned that she was robbed of her child by 
the Emperor, and she knew they were cutting it in pieces 
inside. The Christian went to the apartments of the Em- 
peror, and found him with the impious Macrian bending 
over the lifeless body of a beautiful infant; their hands 
were stained with blood ; they looked more like furies than 
men. Roused to holy indignation at the dreadful sight, the 
fearless servant of God reproved the Emperor for his im- 
piety. She threatened him with the judgments of the Eter- 



248 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

nal God, and made him tremble at the terrible retribution 
that hangs over the murderer and the oppressor of the 
poor ; but the spirit of evil had already taken possession 
of the wretched Valerian ; the language of reproof grated 
harshly on his haughty soul, and bursting into rage, he 
ordered thelictors to remove and torture the Christian that 
dared to correct him. In the same breath in which he 
condemned his first martyr, he ordered the bronze plates 
that announced the decrees of persecution and bloodshed 
to be hung from the walls of the Capitol and the columns 
of the Forum. 

Pope Stephen called his trembling flock around him, and 
exhorted them to martyrdom ; by holy admonitions and by 
love of sacred writ he imbued their minds with sentiments 
of pious confidence. Among other things, say the Acts of 
the martyrdom of this holy Pontiff, which we quote from 
Baronius (a. d. 259), he addressed them in these words : 
" My beloved little children, listen to me a sinner. While 
there is yet time, let us be instant in good works, and that 
not only*to our neighbors, but to ourselves; and, in the 
first place, let me admonish each one to take up his cross 
and follow our Lord Jesus Christ, who has vouchsafed to 
say to us, ' He that loves his life shall lose it, but he that 
loses his life for my sake shall find it in eternity.' Where- 
fore, I beseech you all to be most solicitous, not only for 
your own, but for your neighbors' salvation ; so that if any 
among you have friends or relations still in heathenism, let 
him hasten to conduct them hither to receive baptism at 
our hands." 

Among the Christians who were listening to the address 
of the holy father, there was a saintly and venerable old man 
named Hippolytus, who had been a wealthy Roman citizen, 
but gave all his substance to the poor, and was now leading 
a solitary life in the Catacombs on the Appian Way. When 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 249 

Stephen had ceased to address the Christians, Hippolytus 
cast himself at his feet, and said, "Good father, may it 
please you, there are my nephew and his sisters, both Gen- 
tiles, whom I myself reared — a little boy about ten years 
of age, and the girl thirteen ; their mother, a Gentile, is 
called Paulina ; their father, who sends them both to me 
from time to time, is named Adrias. ' ' Then the blessed Ste- 
phen exhorted him to detain the children when next sent, 
that thereby the parents also might be brought to visit him. 

After two days the above-mentioned children came to 
Hippolytus, bringing certain cakes of bread. He detained 
them, and sent word to the blessed Stephen, who coming, 
embraced the little ones and cherished them. Full of soli- 
citude about their children, the parents came in haste to 
seek them. Then Stephen addressed them on the terrors 
of the future and tremendous judgment, earnestly exhorting 
them to abandon the idols, as did Hippolytus also. Adrias, 
the father of the children, said that he dreaded being de- 
spoiled of his property and put to death — the lot prepared 
for all who professed themselves Christians. Paulina, sister 
of Hippolytus, said the same, and rebuked him for urging 
such a course, for she hated the religion of the Christians. 
They departed leaving those in the Catacombs who had 
exhorted them without success, but not without hope. 

Then the blessed Stephen, calling the learned priest Euse- 
bius, and the deacon Marcellus, sent them to Adrias and 
Paulina, to invite them again to the catacomb where Hip- 
polytus abode ; and when they were come, Eusebius said 
to them, " Christ expects you, that He may introduce you 
into the kingdom of heaven." And when Paulina began 
to insist on the glory of this world and the miserable lot 
of the Christians, he portrayed to them the ineffable glories 
of heaven, which they could not attain except through faith 
and baptism. Paulina declined to decide till the next day. 



250 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

The same night there came a Christian father and mother 
with their son, who was a paralytic, to Eusebius in the 
catacomb, to have him baptized ; who, praying over him, 
baptized him ; whereupon he was cured, and his tongue 
being loosened, he gave praise to God. Then Eusebius 
offered up the Holy Sacrifice, and all participated in the 
body and blood of Christ. When Stephen the Bishop 
heard of this, he came and they rejoiced together. 

But when it was morning, Adrias and Paulina returned, 
and on hearing of the cure of the boy, being filled with 
admiration, they prostrated themselves with great contrition, 
praying the Pontiff to baptize them. Seeing this, Hip- 
poly tus gave thanks to God, and cried out, "Holy father, 
do not defer their baptism." Stephen answered, "Let 
then the necessary solemnities be completed, and put to 
them the prescribed questions that it may be seen if they 
truly believe and have no longer any trepidation at heart. ' ' 
After the interrogation, he enjoined them a fast, and having 
instructed all the catechumens, he baptized them in the 
name of the Trinity, and placing on them the sign of the 
cross, he called the boy Neone, and the girl Mary, and he 
offered the Holy Sacrifice for them. And when all had 
communicated, the blessed Stephen departed. The newly- 
baptized remained, and dwelt with Hippolytus, Eusebius, 
and Marcellus in the Catacombs, but the property which 
they had in the city they distributed among the poor. 

As soon as the news of this transaction came to the ears 
of the Emperor, orders were issued to seek out the converts, 
and a reward of half their property was offered to any one 
who should detect them. It was then that Maximus, a 
writer in one of the government offices, had recourse to a 
device to find them out. He feigned himself a Christian 
who begged alms, and coming to a place called Area Car- 
bonaria, on the Coelian Hill, remained there begging until 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 25 1 

he saw Adrias passing by, to whom he thus addressed him- 
self in order to obtain a proof of his being a Christian : — 
"For Christ's sake, in whom I believe, I beseech you take 
pity on my distress." Then Adrias, taking pity on him, 
bade him follow. But when they were entering the house, 
Maximus was seized by a demon, and cried out, " Man of 
God ! I am an informer. I see above me an immense fire ; 
oh! pray for me ; lam tortured by the flames!" After- 
ward, when they had interceded for him with tears, he fell 
prostrate on the ground, and was cured ; and when they 
lifted him up he exclaimed, " Perish the worshippers of 
idols; let me be baptized !" They took him to the blessed 
Stephen, who, having instructed him, at length baptized 
him, and he prayed to remain some days with Stephen the 
Bishop after he was made a Christian. 

When Maximus did not return, search was made for him, 
and some of his fellow-clerks were sent from the same de- 
partment to his house. They found him prostrate in prayer. 
Laying hands on him, they brought him before Valerian, 
who said to him, " Hast thou been so blinded by bribes as 
to deceive me?" 

" True," replied Maximus, "hitherto I have been blind; 
but now, being illuminated, I see." 

"In what light? " said the Emperor. 

"In the faith of the Lord Jesus Christ," replied Maxi- 
mus. 

Then Valerian in a rage ordered him to be precipitated 
from one of the bridges of the Tiber. His body was after- 
ward buried by Eusebius in the Catacombs on the Appian 
Way. 1 

1 The little chapel in which Maximus was interred is still shown in 
the Catacombs of St. Sebastian on the Appian Way. As these Catacombs 
are left publicly open for strangers, there are none so well known in 
the Eternal City. The stone, with the inscription " Locus Maximi," 



252 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

After this, Valerian sent a body of seventy soldiers, with 
orders to use every diligence till they had found Eusebius 
and the others. When the holy priest, together with 
Adrias, Paulina, and the children, as also the venerable 
Hippolytus, were discovered, they were led in bonds to 
the Forum of Trajan. The deacon Marcellus gave vent to 
complaints against the Emperor, for his cruelties against 
the friends of truth, and being denounced for this by 
Secundinus Togatus, he also was seized. 

Eusebius the priest was the first who was interrogated by 
the judge, "Are you the disturber of the city? — But first, 
what is your name ? ' ' 

"I am called Eusebius, and a priest." 

Then the judge ordered him to be set aside, and Adrias 
to be brought in ; who, being first questioned as to his 
name, and then as to how he came by the abundance of 
wealth and affluence with which he seduced the people., 
replied, ' ' In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I inherit 
it from the industry of my parents. ' ' 

"Therefore make use of your inheritance, and do not 
waste it in subverting others," said the judge. 

"I do expend it truly, and without deception, for the 
advantage of myself and my children." 

" Hast thou children and a wife?" 

" They are here with me in chains." 

"Let them be brought in," said the judge. 

Then Paulina with her children, Neone and Mary, were 
brought within the veil, followed by Marcellus the deacon 
and Hippolytus ; when the judge said : 

"Is this your wife? and are these your children ?" 

"They are," said Adrias, 

" And who are those other two ? " 

is still preserved in the same spot. It was in this gloomy subterranean 
chapel that St. Philip Neri used to spend whole nights in prayer. 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 2$$ 

" That is Marcellus the deacon, and this is my brother 
Hippolytus, a faithful servant of Christ. ' ' 

Turning to them, the judge said, "Declare with your 
own mouths by what names you are called ? ' ' 

Marcellus said, "I am called Marcellus die deacon." 
"You," said he to Hippolytus, "what is your name?" 
"Hippolytus, servant of the servants of Christ." 
The judge then ordered Paulina and her children to be 
taken aside, and then said to Adrias, " Tell me where your 
treasures are, and let you and those who have been led in 
with you offer sacrifice to the gods, and save your lives, 
which otherwise you will speedily lose." 

"We," replied Hippolytus, "have already cast away 
vain idols, and have found the Lord of heaven and earth, 
Christ the Son of God, in whom we believe." 

Then the judge ordered all to be led to the public 
prison and not to be separated : they were led to the 
Mamertine keep. 

After three days, the prefect, assisted by Probus, held 
his court in the Temple of the Earth, where he had ordered 
instruments of torture of all descriptions to be kept in 
readiness. Adrias was brought in first, and was interro- 
gated about his property. When nothing satisfactory was 
elicited, the altar was lit up before the goddess Minerva, 
and they were ordered to offer incense. But all, rejecting 
the proposal with horror, laughed at the judge for asking 
them. They were then ordered to be stripped, and being 
extended naked on the rack, were beaten with sticks. 
Then the blessed Paulina, being very severely beaten, re- 
signed her soul to God. Seeing this, the judge ordered 
Eusebius and Marcellus to be beheaded. The sentence 
was executed at the Petra Scelerata, near the Coliseum, on 
the 13th of the kalends of November. Their bodies were 
left for the dogs ; that of St. Paulina was cast out of the 
22 



254 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

pavement ; all three were collected by another Hippolytus, 
a deacon, and buried in the Catacombs on the Appian Way, 
where they had so often met. 

Secundinus after this brought Adrias and his children 
with Hippolytus home to his own house, leaving nothing 
untried to discover the money; but their answer was, 
' ' What we had, we expended on the poor ; our treasures 
are our souls, which we can on no account afford to lose ; 
obey your commission.' ' Then Secundinus had the children 
tortured; to whom their father said, " Be constant, my 
children." While they were under the strokes, they said 
nothing but, " Christ, assist us." 

After this he commanded Adrias and Hippolytus to be 
submitted to torments, directing their sides to be burned 
with torches ; and when they had been tortured in various 
ways and could in no wise be induced to sacrifice, or even 
to say that they consented to it, Secundinus said, " Quickly 
lift the children Neone and Mary from the ground, and 
carrying them to the Petra Scelerata, slay them before their 
father's eyes." When this had been done, their bodies 
were flung on the public place, (i.e., alongside the amphi- 
theatre.) They were carried away at night by the faithful, 
and interred in the same catacomb with their mother on the 
Appian Way. 

When Secundinus had announced all to Valerian, after 
eight days, he directed his throne to be prepared in the 
circus. Flaminius and Hippolytus and Adrias, bound in 
chains, were conducted, with a herald crying out before 
them, "These are the guilty wretches, the guilty wretches 
that overthrow the city ; ' ' and when they had arrived be- 
fore the tribunal, the judge began again to question them 
about the money, saying, "Give up the money by which 
you used to lead the people into error. ' ' 

"We preach Christ," replied Adrias, "who deigned to 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 2$$ 

liberate us from error, not for the destruction of men, but 
that they may have life." 

When Secundinus Togatus saw his words availed nothing, 
he directed their jaws to be beaten for a long time with 
leaden sticks, while the crier made proclamation to them, 
"Sacrifice to the gods by burning incense;" for he had 
ordered a lighted tripod to be placed there for the purpose. 
Hippolytus, streaming with blood, cried out, "Execute 
your office, unhappy man, and cease not ! ' ' Then Secun- 
dinus ordered the executioners to cease beating them, and 
said, " Now at least take pity on yourselves ; you see I pity 
your foolishness." They answered, " We are ready to bear 
any torments rather than do what you or the Emperor wish 
us." Secundinus reported this to the Emperor Valerian, 
who ordered them to be forthwith destroyed in the presence 
of the people. 

Then Secundinus commanded them to be taken to the 
bridge of Antoninus, and to be beaten to death ; where, 
after suffering a long time, they gave up the ghost, and 
their bodies were left in the same place near the island 
Lycaonia. Hippolytus, a deacon of the Roman Church, 
came by night and removed their bodies to the same crypt 
on the Appian Way (5th Ides of December) where the other 
saints had been placed. (See Baronius, under the year 259, 
No. 8 and following.) 

From the Acts we have been quoting, we find that no 
sooner had the Catacombs been consecrated by the sacred 
remains of the martyrs than they became the voluntary 
homes of the living. Whilst peace reigned in the Empire, 
and the dread sacrifice was offered in little churches in the 
very heart of the city, some of the fervent Christians re- 
tired to the Catacombs for prayer and solitude. Such was 
the case with Hippolytus, the brother of Paulina, whose 
terrible death we have just recorded. We have in the same 



256 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Acts a beautiful account of a Grecian woman and her 
daughter who spent some years in one of the crypts on the 
Appian Way, remaining in prayer by the tombs of the mar- 
tyrs long after the sword of persecution had been returned 
to its scabbard. These were relatives of Adrias and Paulina, 
and were likewise Christians. Having arrived in Rome, 
they learned that their kinsfolk were martyred ; they went 
in great joy to the little chapel in the Catacombs of St. Se- 
bastian (as they are now called), where these martyrs were 
buried, and there passed thirteen years in vigils and pray- 
ers, until it pleased God to call them to Himself, and they 
were interred in the same crypt, 

3- 

Nearly a year had passed since the scenes described above 
took place. The persecution still raged, but was losing the 
virulence of its first outbreak. The Evil One, who had 
taken possession of the heart of Valerian, urged him on to 
still greater cruelties, and deeper and more intense hatred 
against the Christians. Consequently, he issued a new edict, 
more formidable and cruel than the preceding. Informers 
were promised a reward of all the property of the Christians 
they should betray ; and Valerian himself sent secret orders 
to the rulers of the provinces, that, although he publicly 
commanded only the death of the principal Christians, he 
in reality wished the entire extermination of the sect. Thus, 
in the following year, the persecution raged more fiercely 
than ever ; and we must now return to the second part of 
the beautiful Acts we have just now quoted, and continue 
the tale of bloodshed and horror that passed under the 
walls of the Coliseum seventeen centuries ago. 

When the edict was published, the blessed Stephen, having 
assembled all the clergy, thus addressed them: " Brethren 
and fellow-soldiers, you have heard of the cruel and diabol- 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 2$? 

ical mandates that have been issued, that if any Gentile de- 
liver up a Christian, he shall receive his entire property. 
Do you, therefore, brethren, reject the goods of this world 
with contempt, that you may receive a celestial kingdom ; 
fear not the princes of this world, but pray to the Lord 
God of heaven, and to Jesus Christ, His Son, who can 
rescue us from the hands of our enemies, and from the 
malice of Satan, to associate us to His grace." 

Then the presbyter Bonus, answering, said, "Not only 
are we prepared to relinquish earthly possessions, but even 
to pour out our blood for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
so that we may deserve to obtain His grace. ' ' And having 
spoken thus, all the clergy prostrated themselves at the feet 
of the blessed Stephen, and told him there were some 
Gentile children and others of their neighbors not yet 
baptized, whom they prayed permission to bring ; where- 
fore he directed that all should assemble the next day in 
the crypt of Nepotiana. 

When the next day came, there were found assembled 
catechumens of both sexes to the number of one hundred 
and eight ; all of whom the same Stephen baptized, and 
offered for them sacrifice, of which they all partook. 
While the Pontiff held his station in this catacomb, ar- 
ranging the affairs of the Church, teaching, exhorting, 
holding counsels, and celebrating mass, through the crypts 
of the martyrs, multitudes of the Gentiles resorted to him 
to be instructed and baptized. 

The servant of one of these, Sempronius, had been 
seized, and was questioned in every way to force him to 
disclose how he had disposed of his master's riches ; and 
among other things, when the idol of Mars, with a tripod, 
was placed before him that he might ^sacrifice, he said, 
"May the Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, de- 
stroy thee ! " and forthwith the idol melted. Amazed at 

22* R 



258 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

this, Olympius, the officer charged with his execution, or- 
dered him to be brought to his own dwelling, threatening 
to exhaust every species of torment on him that night. 

On coming home, he told his wife, Exuperia, how the 
idol melted at the name of Christ. "If then," said she, 
"so great be the virtue of that name as thou narratest, it 
is better for us to abandon gods who cannot defend either 
us or themselves, and seek Him who gave sight to the 
daughter of Nemesius." Olympius then told his domestic, 
Tertullian, to treat Sempronius with honor, and to try and 
discover where the treasures were of Nemesius, his master. 
But that same night, he with his wife Exuperia, along with 
their son, came to Sempronius, and falling at his feet, said, 
"We recognize the power of Christ; we seek to be bap- 
tized by thee." 

Sempronius said to Olympius, "If you do penance with 
your wife and son, all shall be administered to you in due 
season." 

"Thou shalt have proof even now," said Olympius, 
"that from my whole heart I believe in the Lord whom 
thou preachest ; ' ' and so saying, he opened a room where 
he had idols of gold and silver and marble, and told Sem- 
pronius he was ready to do with them whatsoever he should 
direct. 

"Then," said Sempronius, "destroy every one of them 
with your own hands,— the gold and silver ones melt down 
with fire, and distribute them to the poor ; and then I shall 
know that thou believest with thy whole heart. ' ' 

When Olympius had done so, a voice was heard saying, 
" Let my Spirit rest in thee." On hearing this, Olympius 
and his wife began to be strengthened more and more, and 
to glow with a fervent longing to be baptized. 

Sempronius communicated these things to Nemesius, 
now at liberty, who went in haste to inform the blessed 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 259 

Stephen, who returned thanks to Almighty God, and went 
in the night to the house of Olympius, who fell at his feet, 
together with his wife and son, pointing to the fragments 
of his idols as a token of his sincerity. Seeing this, the 
blessed Stephen gave thanks to God, and commenced to 
catechize them on ecclesiastical tradition. He then bap- 
tized them and all of their household that believed, together 
with their son, whom he called Theodulus, and offered sac- 
rifice for their redemption. 

After the third day, this news was brought to Valerian 
and Gallienus, who forthwith ordered Nemesius and his 
daughter Lucilla, whose sight had been restored, to be 
slain at the Temple of Mars on the Appian Way, while 
Sempronius, Olympius, Exuperia, and Theodulus were 
burned to death near the amphitheatre. They expired 
singing the praises of Christ, who had vouchsafed to asso- 
ciate them with His martyrs ; and their remains having 
been collected by the clergy, were consigned to the tomb 
by the blessed Stephen with the accustomed hymns. 

After some days, special edicts were issued for the appre- 
hension and punishment of Stephen and the clergy of the 
Roman Church. Twelve of the latter were immediately 
seized and put to death without any hearing. Among them 
was that venerable priest named Bonus, or the Good, who 
had made that glorious declaration when the clergy were 
addressed in the Catacombs by Pope Stephen. Their 
bodies were collected and laid near those of two other 
holy martyrs in a crypt near the Via Latina, by Tertullian, 
freedman of Olympius. On , learning this, the blessed 
Stephen sent for Tertullian, and having instructed him re- 
garding the kingdom of God and life eternal, baptized 
him, and gave him in charge, while yet in his white robes, 
to a priest, who specially enjoined him to seek out the 
bodies of the holy martyrs. After two days, he was taken 



260 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and brought before Valerian, by whom he was interrogated 
as to the property of Olympius ; and having answered, and 
sustained every species of torture with heroic constancy, he 
was finally beheaded at the second milestone on the Via 
Latina. His remains were collected by the blessed Stephen 
and interred in the same crypt. 

The next day soldiers were sent to seize Stephen, and 
the clergy who were with him ; and when they had led him 
into the presence of Valerian, the Emperor said, " Is it you 
who are endeavoring to overthrow the Republic, and by 
your persuasion to induce the people to abandon the wor- 
ship of the gods?" To which Stephen replied, "I indeed 
do not overthrow the Republic ; but I admonish and exhort 
the people that, forsaking the demons whom they worship 
in their idols, they would pay homage to the true God, and 
Jesus Christ, whom He has sent. ' ' Then Valerian com- 
manded him to be led to the Temple of Mars, where his 
sentence was to be read from the tablets. 

Blessed Stephen, being led out of the city on the Via 
Appia, when he had come to the Temple of Mars, said, 
lifting his eyes to heaven, "Lord God and Father, who 
didst destroy the tower of confusion at Babel, destroy this 
place in which the devil deceives people to superstition." 
It then began to thunder ; and the lightning-flashes struck 
the temple, which in part fell to the ground. The soldiers 
having fled, Stephen, who remained alone, went with his 
attendant priests and deacon to the neighboring cemetery 
of Lucina, where he encouraged the Christians to martyr- 
dom by many exhortations. After this, he offered sacrifice 
to the Omnipotent God. The soldiers who were sent in 
pursuit, found him in the act of celebrating mass ; but with- 
out being terrified, he continued intrepidly the mysteries 
which he had commenced, until they struck off his head as 
he sat in the pontifical chair before the altar, on the 4th of 



THE ACTS OF POPE STEPHEN. 26 1 

the Nones of August. Great were the lamentations made 
by the Christians at being deprived of so great a pastor, and 
they interred his body, with the chair drenched with his 
blood, in the same crypt, in the place called the cemetery 
of Callistus. (See Baronius, An. 260.) 

The relics of Hippolytus, Adrias, Paulina, and the children 
Neone and Mary, are preserved under the high altar of the 
beautiful little church of St. Agatha, in Suburra. It is now 
the collegiate chapel of the Irish students at Rome, to whom 
it was given, together with the spacious college attached, 
by Gregory XVI., "whose memory is in benediction." 
The faithful children of St. Patrick kneel around this ven- 
erable shrine, and learn in prayer that spirit of martyrdom 
which is still necessary for their own suffering country. 
Ireland, too, has had her martyrs ; and the shrine of the 
victims of the early persecutions of the Church must forci- 
bly recall to the memory of the exiled Levite the history of 
his suffering country. His faith sees the brighter side of the 
cloud that passed over Ireland in the penal times ; his fa- 
thers stand with the heroes of Rome amid the bright galaxy 
of heaven's martyrs ; his country is numbered among the 
nations favored by God. 





CHAPTER XV. 

THE TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SOLDIERS. 




HILST the impious Valerian was paying the pen- 
alty of his crimes under the galling lash of the 
victorious Persian king, Sapor, his worthless and 
debauched son, Gallienus, continued the reign 
of tyranny over the Empire. Without affection for his 
father, and without interest in the Empire, he gave himself 
up to the most shameful excesses and debaucheries. 

Five usurpers rose almost simultaneously to wrest from 
him the reins of government. Among them was the im- 
pious Macrian, whose wicked counsel had brought Valerian 
into hostility against the Christians, and drawn down so 
terrible a retribution from heaven on that ill-fated Emperor. 
The most successful of the rivals of Gallienus was the sol- 
dier Claudius. He rose from a tribune under Valerian to 
be commander of a camp; his triumph over the Goths 
made him famous ; praises were poured on him, statues 
erected to his name, and he was the idol of his army. His 
ambition kept pace with fortune; he aimed at supreme 
control. 

He was a crafty man, and resorted to a stratagem that 
proved successful in removing his rival. He wrote out the 
names of some of the bravest and most daring officers in 

262 



THE TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SOLDIERS. 263 

the army of Gallienus, and imitated perfectly the charac- 
ters and handwriting of the Emperor. This document, 
which was a pretended list of those whom the tyrant in- 
tended to put to death, was sent by a confidant to the camp 
of Gallienus, who was then besieging the usurper Aureolus 
in the city of Milan. It was picked up by one of the in- 
tended victims. He called the others around him, — they 
resolved to kill Gallienus that night. When all was dark, 
they raised a false alarm, the soldiers were called to arms, 
and in the confusion, the wretched Emperor was pierced 
through the body with a javelin, and an officer cut his head 
in two with his sword. Claudius was declared Emperor by 
his own army; defeated Aureolus, and came to Rome to 
steep his hands in the blood of the Christians, and stain 
his name with eternal infamy. 

His predecessor was too intemperate, to be formidable. 
Cruelty, bloodshed, and wholesale immolation of innocent 
victims, are not the stains found in that page of history in 
which his name is mentioned. His impurity, intemperance, 
and the open indulgence of brutal passions, did not allow 
him even a sober moment to molest the Christians. Yet 
the old laws of persecution were still in force ; there were 
judges and governors who used the terrible edicts to gratify 
the whims of cruel caprice, and remove those whom they 
considered obnoxious. Many martyrdoms are recorded in 
the provinces ; whilst in Rome the persecution raged with- 
out the horrors of bloodshed. The Christians suffered, 
but not in the Coliseum, or at the Petra Scelerata ; they 
were not torn to pieces with knotted scourges, or cast into 
caldrons of boiling oil ; they were not flung into the 
Tiber, nor beheaded at the third or seventh milestones ; 
but another, and, to the Christians themselves, a more 
tedious persecution raged against them. They were cast 
into loathsome prisons, chained to the galleys, or made to 



264 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

work like public malefactors in the woods and sandpits in 
the neighborhood of the city. Thus when Claudius entered 
Rome, he had his victims prepared for him ; his short and 
bloody reign opens with one of the most heart-rending 
and cruel scenes we have found in the Coliseum's tales of 
horrors. 

In the Acts of the Persian nobles Marius and Martha, 
and sons, as given in the Bollandists under the 19th of 
January (and 1st of March), we read the following : 

"At the same time Claudius ordered that if any Chris- 
tians should be found either in prison or at large, they 
should be punished without trial. When this law was pro- 
mulgated, there were detained in the Via Salaria two hun- 
dred and sixty Christians, who, for the name of Christ, 
were condemned to work in the sandpits ; these he had 
confined in a potter's store, and then ordered to be taken 
to the amphitheatre to be slain with arrows. When this 
happened, Marius, and Martha his wife, together with their 
sons Audifax and Abacuc, were very much afflicted — came 
to the place where they were slain, bringing with them the 
blessed John the priest, and found fire was placed over the 
holy bodies. They then commenced to remove the bodies, 
and bury them with liniments and spices, for they were very 
rich ; and as many as they could rescue they buried in the 
crypt on the Via Salaria near the Clivum Cucumeris. They 
buried also at the same time a certain tribune of Claudius 
named Blastus, and in the same place they spent many 
days with blessed John in fasting and prayer." 

The imagination must fill up the horrid details of this 
dreadful massacre. According to the Acts they were shot 
with arrows in the Coliseum. The brutal soldiery were 
permitted to take the place of the spectators, and to let fly 
their arrows on their companions, who were forced into 
the arena. The corps of archers was always the most 



THE TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SOLDIERS. 265 

savage and brutal of the soldiers ; from their body the pub- 
lic executioners were generally chosen ; their intemperate 
habits, their rough, brutal appearance, and their want of 
the common feelings of humanity, made them hateful to 
the Pagans themselves ; they were meet instruments in the 
hands of tyrants for the torture of Christians. 

It is terrible to contemplate these brave soldiers unarmed, 
bound, and silent, awaiting the fatal darts that were to 
pierce them through. In vain we look for anything in the 
horrors of shipwreck or the battlefield, to compare to this 
scene. In the former, its terrors are more in anticipation 
than in reality : the wave that engulfs its victim, hides for 
ever the agonies of death ; an occasional scream from a 
struggling victim breaks through the storm ; but then, a 
moment, and all is over, not a vestige of the wreck is seen, 
the mighty billows roll on, and the wind howls as before. 
Not so in the scene before us in the Coliseum. For hours 
the sigh of the dying mingles with the rude laugh of the 
archers. Here a group are on their knees, hands clasped 
and in prayer ; the hum of the flying arrows is their death- 
knell ; they fall one by one : there two friends have clasped 
each other in the last deadly embrace ; they have fallen to- 
gether, and their blood mingles in the same stream. Never 
was greater battle won by the brave ; their courage was a 
defiance of death; the spoils of their victory, the richest 
ever won. 

Were these poor soldiers strangers to all the ties of na- 
ture, and the passions of the soul ? Certainly not. The 
grace to suffer martyrdom does not mean a benumbing of 
the human sensibilities ; with them affection, fear, and pain 
are felt as strongly as in the heart of the dying soldier on 
the field of battle. Home, family, and friends were loved 
by the martyr ; but the supernatural unction of grace dead- 
ened the pang of separation ; the aged parent, the beloved 
23 



266 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

spouse, and the tender children, were cheerfully given up 
to that paternal Providence that blesses with the same 
stroke that it chastises. Without a murmur, without a sigh 
of regret, they awaited their crown. 

From the horrors of this massacre we are rapt in spirit 
to another scene, bright and consoling. Away above the 
mighty vault of the amphitheatre, we see thousands of bril- 
liant spirits soaring over the dying soldiers, bearing crowns 
of unfading laurel, and wafting the liberated souls to eternal 
joy. When the great ruin is lit up on a summer's evening 
by millions of fire-flies sailing like floating stars in the dark 
sky, it brings to mind the bright angels sent from on high 
to greet those martyred soldiers. Terrible was the contrast 
between the gloom of the carnage in the material world, 
and the joy it brought in the regions of true bliss. Centu- 
ries of immutable joy have rolled over those heroes of the 
Coliseum; short their battle, but long and eternal their 
reward. The woes of earth are momentary pangs ; beyond 
the grave they become specks in the distant horizon of the 
past; the excruciating torments of martyrdom, which at 
first cause a shudder, are but seconds of transition to eternal 
joy. It is not, then, with sentiments of pity or indignation 
that we withdraw our thoughts from this scene of blood ; 
we look up from our lowliness to the bright galaxy of mar- 
tyred spirits in the regions above, and we ask them to allow 
the struggling wayfarers in this valley of tears to join in 
their unceasing hymns .of gratitude to the goodness and 
mercy of God. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

THE ACTS OF ST. PRISCA. 




T the time when Claudius was Caesar, he issued 
a new and most impious edict to the whole 
world, that the Christians should offer sacrifice 
to the gods, or be put to death. He ordered his 
presidents and judges to carry out this law, that it might 
destroy the worship of the Christians; he enjoined on 
them, moreover, that those consenting to sacrifice should 
be considered worthy of great honor, while non-conformists 
should be treated with the utmost cruelty. In order to 
manifest the earnestness of his zeal, and to commence the 
observance of his impious law, this Emperor Claudius held 
sacrifices in the Temple of Apollo, and at the same time 
ordered the soldiers to seize all who were known to be 
Christians, men and women, and, by dint of terror and 
direful tortures, force them to sacrifice to the gods. 

2. There were then malignant men who ardently desired 
to destroy the Christian worship ; and coming to a certain 
church, they found the blessed Prisca praying. She was of 
noble blood ; her father had been thrice consul, and was 
exceedingly rich. This holy child was in her eleventh year, 
and was adorned with the grace of God and the most per- 
fect purity of morals. 1 The ministers of the Emperor said 

1 " Hiec in undecimo anno erat bonorum operum, et gratia Dei mori- 
bus ornata." — Acts Bollandists, April 18, No. 2. 

267 



268 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

tocher, "Our Emperor Claudius has commanded you to 
sacrifice voluntarily to the gods. ' ' The blessed Prisca said, 
with a joyful heart, "First let me enter the holy universal 
Church, that I may commend myself to my Lord Jesus 
Christ, and then we will go in peace. It is necessary that, 
in the name of our Lord, I confound your unworthy Em- 
peror, and assist in the triumph of Jesus." And returning 
to the church, she completed her prayers. 

3. Having finished her petition, she went with them to 
the Emperor. The ministers, entering into the apartments 
of Claudius, said to him, " This girl is willing to obey the 
commands of your Majesty." On hearing this he rejoiced 
exceedingly, and ordered her to be brought into his pres- 
ence. When she was brought into the palace before him, 
he said, "Thou art great, O god Apollo! and glorious 
above all the gods, who hast brought me this illustrious 
virgin, so beautiful and with such good dispositions. ' ' Then, 
turning to the blessed Prisca, he said, " I have arranged tc 
have you brought to me, to make you my mistress, and the 
sharer in the power of my kingdom." To this Prisca said, 
" But I will sacrifice without blood, and only to the imma- 
culate God, my Lord Jesus Christ." 

4. The Emperor, hearing these things, and not under- 
standing their meaning, ordered her to be led to the Temple 
of Apollo, that she might sacrifice to him. The holy virgin 
being ordered to enter the temple, said with a cheerful 
countenance to the Emperor, " Do thou also enter, thou 
and all the priests of Apollo, that you may see how the 
omnipotent and immaculate Lord is pleased with the sacri- 
fices of His faithful." The Emperor ordered all who had 
gathered round to watch what she was going to do. 

Blessed Prisca said, "Glory be to Thee, O glorious 
Father ! I invoke Thee, I implore Thee, cast down this 
motionless and dumb idol, the vile emblem of falsehood 



THE ACTS OF ST. P RISC A. 269 

and corruption ; but do Thou, O Lord, hear me a sinner, 
that this Emperor may know how vain is the hope he has 
placed in his idols, and that we ought to adore no other 
God but Thee alone. " 

When she had prayed thus, there was immediately a great 
earthquake, so that the whole city was shaken ; the statue 
of the god shook, and fell to the ground ; in like manner 
the fourth part of the temple was destroyed, and over- 
whelmed a multitude of people, together with the priests 
of the idol. 1 

The Emperor Vas terrified, and fled. Prisca said to 
him, "Stay, Emperor, and assist; your Apollo is broken 
to pieces, and you may now gather up the fragments : more- 
over, his priests are destroyed in the same ruin ; let him 
come now and assist them." 

5. And the demon who dwelt in the idol cried out with 
a loud voice, "O virgin Prisca! handmaid of the great 
God who reigns in heaven, thou who keepest His command- 
ments and hast stript me of my habitation ! — I have lived 
here for sixty-seven years, and under Claudius Caesar 
twelve. Many martyrs have come and have not exposed 
me. Having under me ninety-three other most impious 
spirits, I order each of them to sacrifice to me daily fifty 
souls of men. 2 O Emperor, persecutor of the Christians ! 
thou hast found a holy soul, through whom thou wilt finish 
thy reign in disgrace." These words were spoken with a 
loud voice and great lamentation; terrible darkness sur- 

1 " Et hsec ea orante, statim terrse motus factus est magnus, ita ut civi- 
tas concuteretur et corruit Apollc et comminutus est ; simili modo quarta 
pars templi destrUcta est et oppressit multitudinem paganorum cum sa- 
cerdotibus idolorum," — Acts, No. 4. 

2 A similar thing is read in the Acts of Martina and Tatiana, but as 
ihe dates do not bear historical research, we must remembe: it is the 
proud spirit of lies that is speaking. His authority is not worth much. 

23 * 



270 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

rounded those who were present, and they went away in 
great trepidation and doubt. 

6. The Emperor, not understanding that it was by the 
Divine power that the idol had been overthrown, ordered 
her to be buffeted on the face ; and when the executioners 
had beaten her for some time, they lost their strength, and 
cried out, " Woe to us sinners ! surely we suffer more than 
this girl ; she is not hurt, and we are in pain. We beseech 
thee, O Emperor, to have her taken from us." But the 
Emperor, enraged against them, ordered the face of the 
blessed Prisca to be beaten still more. Looking towards 
heaven, the holy virgin said : 

" Blessed art Thou, O Lord Jesus Christ ! for thou givest 
eternal peace to those who believe in Thee." And when 
she had said this, she was surrounded with a bright light, 
and a voice from heaven was heard saying : 

" Daughter, be of good courage and fear nothing, for I 
am the God whom thou invokest, and I will never abandon 
thee." 

After these things the Emperor was enraged almost to 
madness. 

7. The next day, sitting before his tribunal, the Emperor 
said, "Let that wicked little sorceress be brought in, that 
we may see some more of her charms. ' ' 

When she was brought before him, he said to her, 
"Will you consent to live with me, and sacrifice to the 
gods?" 

But she firmly replied, "Cease, most impious of men, 
and son of a Satanic father ! Are you not ashamed to in- 
sult a helpless girl and ill-treat her thus, when you know 
she will never consent to sacrifice to your idols? " 

Then the Emperor in a fury ordered her to be stript and 
to be beaten with whips. The child's body appeared as 
white as snow ; and so bright was the light that issued from 



THE ACTS OF ST. P RISC A. 2J\ 

her, that the eyes of the beholders were dazzled. 1 While 
they were beating her, the holy virgin said, " I have cried 
with my voice to the Lord, and He heard me in the com- 
bat of my passion." 

The Emperor, hearing her pray thus, said, " Do you 
think you will seduce me with your magic ? ' ' 

But blessed Prisca answered, " Thy father Satan is the 
prince of all dark arts; he loves fornicators, and embraces 
magicians." The Emperor then ordered her to be beaten 
with rods, but the saint, hearing this new punishment, 
smiled and said, " O unjust and impious man, enemy of 
God and inventor of evils ! you are too blinded to know 
the blessings you are procuring for me from the Eternal 
Creator." 

8. Then Limenius, a relative of the Emperor, said to 
him, "This contaminated child does not suffer these tor- 
ments on account of the glory of the Christians and the 
Crucified ; but, like a shining ray of the sun, hopes to 
obtain everything. Let your Majesty command her to be 
cast into prison until to-morrow, and have her besmeared 
with the oil of fat, and let us destroy this brightness." 
The Emperor immediately ordered her to be cast into 
prison until the following day. While she was being led to 
prison, she cried out with a loud voice before all the people, 
saying, "I give Thee thanks, O my Lord Jesus Christ, 
and I implore Thy holy grace ; preserve me from this im- 
pious and impure Claudius, who despises Thy goodness." 
During the whole night, the holy child was glorifying God 
in prison, singing hymns ; and the voices of a multitude 
of persons were heard praising God along with her. When 

1 " Tunc iratus imperator jussit expoliari earn et iterum caedi. Sancta 
autem videbatur Candida sicut nix, cujus splendebat corpus in tantum 
quodnitor claritatis ejus caligare faciebat respicientes in earn."— Acts, 
cap. ii, No. i. 



272 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

morning dawned, she was ordered to be led out of prison, 
but first to be smeared with oil and grease. But when Li- 
menius was leaving the palace, he perceived a fragrant 
smell, as if the air were filled with the perfume of aromatics, 
and said to his companions, " Do you not perceive the 
beautiful scent ? ' ' 

But they replied, ' ' The gods have made this beautiful 
scent for the beloved Prisca, for they all say her own gods 
appeared to her during the night." 

When they arrived at the prison, they found blessed 
Prisca sitting on a throne, and surrounded by a multitude 
of angels, whose brightness it would be impossible to de- 
scribe. She held in her hand a tablet, and read these 
words : ' ' How great are Thy works, O Lord ! Thou hast 
made all things with wisdom." (Ps. ciii. 24.) But Li- 
menius was terrified, and leaving the place, went to the 
palace to announce to the Emperor the great wonders of 
God. The Emperor commanded her to be taken to the 
temple to sacrifice, and in case of refusal, to be exposed to 
the wild beasts. Prisca continued to pray, " I have run 
the way of Thy commandments, O Lord ; teach me Thy 
justifications and I will learn the wonders of Thy divinity. 
Free me from the punishments of men, that I may keep 
Thy commandments." 

9. The Emperor, seeing her countenance more beautiful 
and cheerful than before, said to her, " Hast thou listened 
to good counsel, and consented to sacrifice to the benign 
gods? " 

But she said to him, " My conversion, Emperor, is com- 
plete ; thou wilt not persuade me to mingle in thy contro- 
versies, for I am freed from the impieties and seducing 
vanities of this world. I have received the commands of 
my Lord Jesus Christ. It is good for me to cling to Him, 
and place all my hope in Him, who contains all truth, to 



THE ACTS OF ST. PR ISC A. 273 

whom nothing is wanting, for He is omnipotent. The se- 
duction of thy words are like arrows of darkness, that point 
out the way to eternal gloom. I rejoice rather in the death 
of the saints that surrounded me, and who have subdued 
thy father the devil." 

10. The Emperor in anger said to her, " You shall not 
die, Prisca, if you come and sacrifice. ' ' 

But she said to him, "Do you order me to enter the 
temple again ? ' ' 

To which the Emperor said, " Yes ! go in and sacrifice, 
that you may not be devoured by the wild beasts. ' ' 

Prisca then said, " By the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ, 
assisting me, His humble servant, I will go in as you order." 

But the demon who inhabited the idol knowing that the 
holy child was coming to banish him, cried out with a loud 
voice, " Woe to me ! where shall I fly from Thy Spirit, O 
God of heaven ? Fire is pursuing me from the four corners 
of the temple. ' ' 

Prisca entered, making the sign of the cross, and point- 
ing to the statue of the idol, said, "Emperor, look at this 
imposition ; there are eyes that do not see, ears that do not 
hear, hands that do not feel, and feet that cannot walk — 
a statue decorated with contemptible vanity ; do you wish 
me to sacrifice to this? " 

The Emperor (not understanding what she meant) cried 
out, " May the gods live forever ! thou hast consented to 
my request. ' ' 

But the blessed Prisca approached the idol, and poured 
forth a prayer to the Lord, saying, " O Lord God, Eternal 
King ! Thou who stretchedst forth the heavens, and didst 
build up the earth ; Thou who settest limits to the waters 
of the ocean, and hast trampled on the Serpent's head ; 
Thou, O Lord, wilt not abandon me now ; hear my prayer, 
and destroy this idol made by the hands of men, and used 

S 



2/4 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

by the demon as an instrument full of deceit and malice ; 
and let Claudius by different punishments know that Thou 
alone art blessed in eternity, Amen." Then she said with 
a loud voice, " I command thee to depart, thou who 
dwellest in this deaf and dumb idol." A noise as of 
thunder was immediately heard, and fire fell from heaven, 
which consumed the priests of the temple ; a multitude of 
people were killed; the purple on the right arm of the 
Emperor was burnt, and the idol was reduced to ashes. 1 
Blessed Prisca said, " Glory be to God in the highest, and 
peace on earth to men of good will." 

n. After this the Emperor was enraged, and without 
adverting to the miracle which had taken place, or to the 
power of the, invisible God, said to the prefect, " Take this 
magician, and tear her whole body to pieces with sharp 
iron hooks, that she may no longer see the light of this 
world. I am full of confusion and shame, and know not 
what to do." The prefect, taking her, went immediately 
into the praetorium, and sitting on his tribunal, ordered 
them, to bring in Prisca, saying, " Introduce that temple 
destroyer, that we may see what she will do." Prisca en- 
tered the praetorium smiling. 

The prefect said, "You deride me, little sorceress, be- 
cause you are still alive ; by the most pure sun, I will cast 
your entrails to the dogs, and then we shall see if your 
Christ will have any comfort for you. ' ' 

The blessed Prisca replied, "O impious man! ought I 
not to deride the power of your Emperor, who has been 
conquered by a little girl through Jesus Christ, and then 
delivers me up to you ? ' ' 

The prefect said, "He is ruler, and has power to deliver 

1 " Et mox tonitruum magnum factum est et cecidit ignis de ccelo 
et combussit sacerdotes templi et multitudo populi mortua est, et im- 
peratoris partem dexteram purpune combussit, et idolum in favillam 
redegit." — Acts, last lines of No. io. 



THE ACTS OF ST. PRISCA. 2?$ 

you to me, that I may force you to sacrifice, or take away 
your life. ' ' 

Prisca said, ' ' I will not sacrifice ; torment me as you 
please ! ' ' 

Then the prefect ordered her to be stretched on the rack, 
and her limbs to be cut with small knives. While they 
were tormenting her, she cried with a loud voice, " O Lord 
Jesus, help me ; to Thee do I fly for succor. ' ' 

12. The enraged prefect ordered her to be cast into 
prison ; but she, binding up her holy body, and fortifying 
herself with the hair of her head, went quickly into prison. 
The prefect, mounted on a horse, repaired to the prison, 
and found the holy girl, as before, sitting on a high throne, 
and her beautiful face shining like the sun. 1 In amazement 
he left the place, and shutting the prison-door, he sealed it 
with his ring, and leaving fifty men to guard it, went to the 
Emperor. Blessed Prisca was in. the meantime glorifying 
God, and singing His praises, and there was a great light 
in the cell in which she was confined. The prefect found 
the Emperor in his palace, who, on seeing him, wondered, 
and said, " What are you coming for? " 

He replied, "As your Majesty ordered me, I have tor- 
tured the wicked little Prisca with iron swords and hooks, 
and I have tried to kill her, but, behold, she is still alive, 
and refuses to sacrifice. I have executed your commands ; 
you must now consider what other punishment you will 
order to be inflicted on her. ' ' 

The Emperor said to him, "It is evident that she con- 
fides in her incantations. Let her be delivered to the wild 
beasts, that they may tear her to pieces." 

The prefect was silent. 

1 There is extreme brevity used in this portion of the Acts. Circum- 
stances that may have had days intervening are recorded as happening 
in the same hour. 



276 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

13. When morning was come, he sent the executioners 
for her, and when she was brought in before him, he said, 
"The Emperor commands you to sacrifice; if you refuse, 
you are to be exposed to the wild beasts. ' ' 

Blessed Prisca, with a countenance shining like the light 
of the sun, answered, "In the name of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, who suffered for us who believe in Him, I am sure 
of conquering you. ' ' 

Hearing this, the prefect was much irritated, and went to 
the Emperor and said to him, "I beg of your Majesty to 
come with me to the amphitheatre ; ' ' and they went to- 
wards it together. Then they had her cast between two 
wild beasts. 

Blessed Prisca said, " Watch my sacrifice." 

The prefect said, "Behold, O Emperor, this sorceress 
who overthrew our gods ; may she be torn to pieces by 
the beasts. ' ' 

Among the animals was a savage lion, which had not 
been fed for four days. 1 The Emperor, sitting on his 
throne, was overcome with sadness, and ordered Prisca to 
be led into the arena. When she entered the Coliseum, a 
great noise was heard in the heavens which terrified the 
spectators. 

The Emperor said to her, l ' Believe and consent to my 
wishes ; avert the terrible calamity that is hanging over 
you ; for I swear by the gods that I love you exceedingly. ' ' 
The holy child raised her eyes to heaven, and said, "O 
Lord Jesus Christ, who hast manifested the knowledge of 
Thy divinity, and crowned thy saints with glory, preserve 
me perfect in this combat to-day. ' ' Then turning toward 
the Emperor, she said, "O miserable wretch! know that 

1 " Erat autem et alius leo immanissimus qui quotidie comedebat 
septem oves. Hie non comederat per dies quatuor, ut devoraret B. 
Priscam." 



THE ACTS OF ST. P RISC A. 2?? 

I would rather be devoured by beasts that I may merit eter- 
nal life with Christ, than fall into the snares of eternal 
death by yielding to thy seductions. ' ' 

The Emperor then ordered the most ferocious lion to be 
let loose to devour her. The lion was roaring in his den, 
so that he terrified all the people. His keeper let him out, 
and he entered the arena bounding and roaring; then he 
walked toward the saint, not showing terror but love, and 
leaning forward, he adored her, and kissed her feet. 1 The 
blessed Prisca, praying to the Lord, said, "O God, Thou 
permittest me to combat like a criminal in this theatre of 
guilt, but Thou preservest my soul unsullied and undefiled." 
Then turning toward the Emperor, she said, "You see, O 
Emperor, you have but manifested our power over tortures 
and wild beasts, because Christ, who made heaven and 
earth, and everything in them, is always victorious ; to Him 
everything is subjected by the will of His Father. ' ' 

The Emperor, seeing the meekness of the lion, and that it 
showed the reverence of love toward the saint, said to her, 
" Humble yourself and acknowledge the gods, for they are 
helping you." 

But Prisca replied, " They cannot help themselves, how 
then can they help me ? In the name of my Lord Jesus 
Christ, by my combat, and by my martyrdom, they are 
annihilated. ' ' 

The Emperor commanded the lion to be taken back to 
his den, but before he left the arena, he attacked one of the 
relations of the Emperor and killed him. The enraged 
Claudius ordered the blessed Prisca to be cast again into 
prison; she was filled with the grace of God, and said, 

1 " Et erat leo rugiens in cubili suo, ut omnes terreret. Hie qui eum 
nutriebat aperiit leoni et egressus leo rugiit cursum arripiens et ambu- 
lavit ad sanctam, non. terrorem ostendens sed dilectionem et inclinans 
se adorabat, osculabatur pedes ejus." 
24 



278 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

u Preserve me, O Lord, from the snares they have laid for 
me, and from the scandals of the workers of iniquity." 

14. After three days the Emperor once more ordered a 
sacrifice to be offered in the temple, and sent for the holy 
virgin. She came, and was resplendent as the sun. Clau- 
dius said to her, "Believe and sacrifice, and you will be 
safe." But she said, " I do sacrifice, and I believe in Jesus 
Christ." Then the Emperor in anger ordered her to be 
suspended and torn with hooks. When she was drawn up 
she said, "Thou hast rejoiced me, O Lord, in Thy holy 
will, and I will delight in the works of Thy hands; Thy 
judgments, O Lord, are true eternal light ! ' ' Saying these 
things, immediately the arms and bones of those who were 
tormenting her were afflicted with the sharpest pain, so that 
they cried out to the Emperor, " Free us, we beseech thee, 
from these pains ; the angels of God are tormenting us. ' ' 

15. He then ordered her to be burnt by fire. The at- 
tendants did as they were told, and kindled an immense 
fire and cast her into it. With a loud voice she cried out, 
" O Lord, Thou who lookest down from heaven on those 
who believe and seek after Thee, help me, Thy handmaid ! " 
And immediately there came a great fall of rain and a 
furious whirlwind, which scattered the flames on every side, 
so as to burn those who stood round about. But the Em- 
peror was exceedingly dejected because he was conquered 
by a little girl. 1 

16. In his exasperation he ordered all her beautiful hair 
to be cut off. And when the attendants had cut off her 
hair, she said, "It is written by the Apostle, if a woman 
have a beautiful head of hair, it is her ornament ; you have 
taken from me that hair which God has given me ; God 
will take from you your kingdom." He then directed that 

1 " Et mox pluvia facta est magna, et sonitus venti, et dispersa est 
magna flamma et incendit qui circumstabant omnes. Imperator autem 
^alde tristis eratquia vincebatur a puella." — Acts, No. 15. 



THE ACTS OF ST. PR ISC A. 2jq 

she should be taken to the temple, and he shut the door, 
and having sealed it with his ring, departed to his palace. 
The holy child remained there a day and a night, praising 
and blessing God. Although the Emperor and priests were 
wont to go to the temple every day, they would by no 
means go while the blessed Prisca was there, for they heard 
voices of a multitude of angels. Claudius said to those 
around him, " Our god whom we worship is great, for he 
has assembled all the other gods to instruct and comfort 
Prisca. ' ' On the third day he ordered a great sacrifice of 
oxen to be prepared. When the crowd opened the doors 
of the temple, they saw the blessed Prisca sitting on a 
throne, and surrounded by a great crowd of angels, whose 
beauty was ineffable ; but their god they saw lying on the 
ground. 1 The terrified Emperor cried out, " Where is our 
god?" To which Prisca said, "Do you not see him re- 
duced to dust?" 

1 7. Then the Emperor, enraged beyond measure, ordered 
her to be led outside the city to be beheaded. The holy 
martyr Prisca rejoicing said, "O Lord Jesus Christ, Re- 
deemer of all, I praise Thee, I adore Thee, I beseech 
Thee, I implore Thee, who hast liberated me from all the 
evils intended for me. Save me now, O Lord Jesus Christ, 
with whom there is no acceptation of persons ; perfect me 
in the confession of Thy name ; order me to be received 
into Thy glory, that I may happily escape the evils by which 
I am surrounded ; and reward the impious Claudius accord- 
ing to his works toward Thy helpless handmaid ! ' ' And 
having said this, she turned toward the executioners and 
addressed them thus: "Fulfil the orders you have re- 
ceived." And thus, did the blessed Prisca end her life by 

1 " Turbae autem aperientes portam templi viderunt B. Priscam seden- 
tem in sede et cum ea existentem ccetum Angelorum quorum pulchri- 
tudo enarrari non potest; viderunt autem deum illorum in terram ce- 
cidisse." — Acts, No. 16. 



28o THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

the sword \ and a voice was heard from heaven, saying, 
" Because thou hast fought for my name, Prisca, enter into 
the kingdom of heaven with all My saints." And when 
this was said, the executioners fell on their faces and died. 1 

1 8. Then it was announced to the Bishop of Rome by a 
Christian who watched in concealment, how they led the 
blessed Prisca along the Ostian Way, to about the tenth 
milestone, and there beheaded her and took away her life. 
The Bishop, having heard this, went with him to the place 
he mentioned, and they found the body between two eagles, 
one at her head and the other at her feet, guarding it, lest the 
beasts should touch it. There was a dazzling light round 
her head, and her face smiled in the Holy Spirit. 2 Then 
the Bishop himself and his companion dug a grave, and 
buried her in that spot. 

19. When the Emperor heard all these things, he was 
struck the same day with terrible grief in his heart, and like 
a rabid dog ate his own flesh, 3 and groaning and trembling, 
he cried, " Have pity on me, Thou God of the Christians ! 
I know I have transgressed Thy precepts, O Christ, and 
blasphemed Thee ; I have persecuted Thy name, and have 
ungratefully sinned against Thy handmaid. I am justly 
afflicted by Thee j Thou rewardest me as I have deserved. ' ' 
He expired, convulsed and writhing in agony, and a ter- 
rible voice was heard, saying, " Enter, Emperor, into the 

1 " Et ita finivit vitam B. Prisca per gladium ; et vox de ccelo facta 
est, dicens, Quia certasti pro nomine meo, Prisca, ingredere in regnum 
ccelorum cum omnibus Sanctis, et, facta hac voce, carnifices ceciderunt 
in facies suas et mortui sunt." — Acts, No. 17. 

2 " Tunc episcopus, hoc cum audivit, ambulavit cum ipso qui ei nun- 
tiaverat, et ibi earn invenerunt jacentem, unam quidem aquilam se- 
dentem ad caput ejus et aliam ad pedes custodientem corpus ejus, ne 
a feris tangeretur. Caput vero lucidum splendida facie risit in Spiritu 
Sancto."— Ads, No. 18. 

3 " Percussus est dolore cordis eadem die, et, sicut rabidus canis, 
carnes suas comedebat." — No. 19. 



THE ACTS 6F ST. PR ISC A. 28 1 

furnace of hell ; go to exterior darkness, for gloomy places 
of pain are prepared for thee. ' ' There was a great earth- 
quake, and there believed that day, of those who were in 
Rome, on account of the voice that was heard from heaven, 
more than five thousand, not counting women and children. 1 
The martyrdom of the blessed Prisca took place on the 18th 
day of January. 

20. After a short time, the faithful of Christ built a church 
in this place, and served God in it night and day. Her 
venerable body remained here until the consulate of An- 
tonius, (a. d. 275,) when her burial-place was revealed to 
the most reverend and holy Pope Eutychian, who gathered 
together the priests and faithful, and having prepared a 
sarcophagus of wonderful beauty, went in procession to the 
spot. They dug up the earth and found it. With great de- 
votion and reverence they raised the most holy and blessed 
body of Prisca, virgin and martyr ; and singing hymns 
and sacred canticles, they took it to the city, and deposited 
it near the Roman arch in the church of the martyrs Aquila 
and Prisca, praising and glorifying God, who is in heaven, to 
whom is all honor and glory, who liveth with God the Fa- 
ther in the unity of the Holy Spirit through all ages. Amen. 
The Acts of St. Tatiana, as narrated by the Bollandists, 
ire precisely similar to those of St. Prisca. Whether they 
rere two different saints, or the same called by another 
lame, is doubtful. However, following the learned judg- 
lent of Papebrochius, we believe St. Tatiana was in reality 
lother of the heroines of the Coliseum. She has a distinct 
festival in the Roman martyrology on the 12th of January. 

1 " Ingredere, imperator, in clibanum Gehennae ; vade in tenebras 
exteriores, tibi enim prceparata sunt tenebrosa pcenarum loca. Factus 
est autem terrge motus magnus, et crediderunt in eadem die, de iis qui 
erant in urbe Roma, pro voce qu<e facta est de ccelo, numero plusquam 
quinque millia, exceptis parvulis et mulieribus." — lb. 19. 
24* 




CHAPTER XVII. 

CHRYSANTHUS AND DARIA. 







HRYSANTHUS was the son of a senator from 
Alexandria, named Polemius, who went to Rome 
during the reign of Numerian (a. d. 282), and 
was immediately enrolled in the senatorial body 
of the imperial city. The father and son were Pagans ; but 
that inscrutable providence, which St. Paul compares to 
the potter, who destines some vessels for honor and some for 
dishonor, cast the light of faith into the heart of Chrysanthus, 
and made him not only a Christian, but a noble martyr of 
the Church of God. He was a young man of ardent tem- 
perament, and while gifted with a powerful mind, was pas- 
sionately fond of study. He went through all the systems 
of philosophy known in those days, studied eloquence 
under the first masters, and ere yet he stood on the thresh- 
old of manhood, his mind was developed by science and 
erudition. These pursuits were incompatible with the in- 
dulgence of the baser passions of nature, and Chrysanthus 
was virtuous without his knowing it. Almighty God looked 
on him with complacency, and by His divine grace brought 
him to the knowledge of the Christian faith. The means 
employed for his conversion were such as are common even 
in our days. 

282 



CHRYSANTHUS AND DARIA. 283 

In his ardent thirst for knowledge, he read every book 
that came in his way. He had heard of the Christians. 
The wonderful things related of that persecuted sect roused 
his curiosity to the highest pitch. Their virtue and patience 
in suffering, and their extraordinary love for each other, 
struck the intelligent mind of the noble youth with amaze- 
ment and delight. In a short time a few books of the 
Christians, and a copy of the sacred Scriptures were put 
into his hands. He read them with avidity. Light was 
beaming from every page ; an unaccountable feeling of 
peace calmed his troubled heart. Night, noon, and morn- 
ing, he was rapt in the study of that true philosophy 
which emanated from Eternal Wisdom itself. He wondered 
he had lived so long without knowing it, — so sublime, so 
simple, so perfect, so beautiful, so terrible ; like the child's 
first vision of the ocean, no language could tell all he felt. 

Chrysanthus became a Christian. He was led by the 
guidance of a supernatural power to an old hermit named 
Carpophbrus, and was instructed and baptized. After his 
baptism, his mind was filled with the light of heaven, and 
his heart glowed with the fire of zeal for the conversion of 
souls ; he longed to impart to others the joy that filled his 
own soul. In eight days after his baptism, we find him 
preaching in the public piazzas, as fearless as the Apostles 
when they came forth from the Coenaculum of Jerusalem 
to commence the great work of the world's conversion. 
Numbers were converted by his powerful discourses ; but 
it pleased God that he should glorify His Church by his 
sufferings. 

His father learned with rage that he had embraced Chris- 
tianity. Like all Pagans, he thought nothing was more mad 
or impious than to preach that a crucified man was the true 
God. He seized Chrysanthus, and locked him up in a 
room in his own house ; and endeavored, by harsh treat- 



284 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

merit, to force him to return to the worship of the gods. 
He allowed no one to see him, and only gave him food 
once in the day ; but the young man was happy, and un- 
flinching in his resolution ; he treated his cruel father with 
respect and reverence. Some days passed in this way, when 
the evil spirit, finding he was immovable in his faith, laid a 
wicked and dangerous snare for his virtue. 

A friend of the senator Polemius came one day to see him. 
He found him sad and afflicted on account of the failure 
of his efforts to overcome his son's resolution. Polemius 
opened his mind to his friend, and asked his advice. A 
more insidious, wicked counsellor he could not have found ; 
the devil seemed to have employed him to plot the ruin of 
Chrysanthus. "If you wish to change the resolution of 
your son," said the stranger, " try him with pleasures rather 
than privations ; tempt him with youth and beauty ; pleas- 
ure will make him forget he is a Christian : you must know 
these trials which you inflict on him, are considered by the 
Christians more honorable than painful." 

Polemius thought this good advice, and determined to 
act upon it. He prepared his triclinium with the most 
beautiful hangings, loaded the tables with costly viands, and 
selected a number of handsome females whom he dressed 
in gorgeous style ; and when he had prepared everything 
that could please the senses or gratify the passions, he in- 
troduced the holy youth, hoping first to destroy his virtue, 
and then find an easy victim in his faith. Chrysanthus 
entered the triclinium in surprise, for he did not know what 
his father intended. A thousand lights were reflected from 
crystal lustres, the walls were hung with priceless tapestry, 
and the odors of the most delicious viands mingled with the 
perfumes of the most beautiful flowers. Round the circular 
table were a number of females reclining ; they were lewdly 
dressed, and represented the goddesses of Pagan mythol- 



CHRYSANTHUS AND DARIA. 285 

ogy ; they were fanning themselves in luxurious ease, and 
seemed to be awaiting the arrival of the principal guest of 
the evening, who was Chrysanthus. When he entered, 
they all rose to pay him homage, the musicians played, and 
incense was burned. The holy youth looked round him in 
amazement; suspicion passed in a moment to conviction; 
he saw that a snare was laid for him. He had scarcely 
entered the room when his father slipped from behind 
him, left the room, and suddenly closed the door, fastening 
it with a heavy bolt. 

Chrysanthus prayed in his heart for strength, for he knew 
he could not be continent unless the Lord assisted him. 
His prayer was heard, and all the allurements and tempta- 
tions of the devil fell like spent arrows on the shield of his 
faith. The Almighty worked a strange miracle in his 
behalf. He was scarcely left alone in. the room, and had 
breathed a short prayer to the Most High, when all the 
females fell into a sound sleep. He stood, as it were, in 
the midst of a solitude, and kneeling apart in the magni- 
ficent chamber, gave his soul to the sweet joy of communion 
with God. 

His father and the attendants were surprised at the sudden 
silence that had come over the banquet-hall — not a whisper, 
not a move, all was as still as death. At length, overcome 
with curiosity, Polemius stealthily opened the door, and 
looked in. He was struck with terror and amazement. The 
girls, musicians, and slaves, were lying on the benches or on 
the floor, as if dead, and Chrysanthus was kneeling, rapt in 
prayer, in a corner of the room, with his arms crossed upon 
his breast. Was it a dream ? was it magic ? or was it a stra- 
tagem organized by the cleverness of his Christian son, to 
trifle still further with his wishes and turn him to mockery ? 
He was thunderstruck, and stood in fear and doubt on the 
threshold of the triclinium. He called all his domestics 



286 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and attendants to look at the strange scene. Some wept 
because they thought the girls were dead ; others fled in 
terror and called all the friends of the family ; the house 
became a scene of confusion, while all was as calm as a 
tomb in the triclinium. 

At length, after a day and a night had passed, the friends 
of Polemius assured him that it was all produced by magic, 
and the black arts which Chrysanthus had learned from the 
Christians ; and after much deliberation, they determined 
to enter the room, and remove the females. When they 
brought them outside of the triclinium, they immediately 
awoke ; they were unconscious of what had happened, and 
wished to return to the banquet which they had not yet 
touched. Some returned in spite of all remonstrance, and 
had scarcely entered the door when they fell down asleep 
again*. While some were amused and others were terrified, 
the devil was preparing another trial to shake the virtue of 
Chrysanthus. 

Among the friends of Polemius there was a venerable 
old man, much esteemed for his learning and prudence. 
Taking the senator aside, he said to him, "Polemius, I 
see through the dark arts of thy son ; he has been an apt 
disciple of Christian magic, and now he finds it easy to 
exercise his skill on those simple and weak girls ; but as 
these arts have no power over noble and educated minds, 
let us seek an intelligent, handsome person who can reason 
with him, and become his wife. I know one among the 
virgins of Minerva ; she is young, beautiful, and intelligent. 
The beauty of her countenance and the powers of her mind 
will surely triumph over - Chrysanthus." Polemius con- 
sented. He was so deeply biassed against Christianity that, 
if even the meanest unfortunate from the low lupanars of 
the city could have succeeded in withdrawing his son from 
the practice of virtue, he would have received her into his 



CHR YSANTHUS AND DARIA. 287 

family, and made her heiress to the title and wealth of his 
senatorial rank. There were only two crimes in the cate- 
gory of the old senator : they were Christianity, and cow- 
ardice in battle. 

We will leave for a moment Polemius and his aged friend 
devising the best means to ruin the noble Chrysanthus. 
We will invite the reader to a different scene in another 
part of the city. 

Among the peculiarities of Pagan worship, it was usual 
for females to dedicate themselves in a particular manner 
to some goddess. They had gods, both male and female, 
to express every tendency of the mind ; every passion and 
every desire were personified in some divinity. Those 
things which are nowadays the occupation of the leisure 
hours of the fair sex, such as music, poetry, needlework, &c, 
were in the days of the Roman Empire works of religious 
homage offered to an imaginary tutelary divinity. The 
votaries of the different goddesses assembled together from 
time to time in the vestibules of their respective temples. 
These gatherings always terminated with a splendid ban- 
quet, to which their friends of the male sex were invited. 
Among the virgins of Minerva, as they were called, there 
was one of those naturally virtuous, noble, generous souls, 
whom we must now introduce to the reader as the heroine 
of this interesting historical record. 

Her name was Daria. She was just in the dawn of woman- 
hood, and surpassed all her companions in beauty and grace. 
From her girlhood (she was probably at this time sixteen), 
she had enrolled herself among the lovers of Minerva, which 
was considered in those days an act of great merit and vir- 
tue. Noble and generous, she was beloved by all ; and in 
the dramatic representations common among children even 
in those remote times, she was invariably elected to take the 
part of Pallas Minerva. 



288 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

One morning Daria went with her companions to the 
vestibule of the temple of Pallas Minerva. Antiquaries 
pretend to be able to point out the very spot. It was not 
far from the Coliseum. Perhaps the reader of these lines 
may have been to Rome, and may have remembered pass- 
ing in the Via Alessandria (leading from the Forum of 
Trajan to the Coliseum), the remains of a splendid portico 
of beautiful and rich carving, and the columns nearly 
buried in the earth. It is called by the people in the 
neighborhood, Le Colonnacce. In Murray's " Guide to 
Rome," they are spoken of thus: " These columns are 
more than half buried in the earth ; their height is esti- 
mated at thirty-five feet, and their circumference at eleven. 
They stand in front of a wall of poperino, on which the 
capital of a pilaster is still visible. The frieze is richly or- 
namented with sculptures representing the arts patronized 
by Minerva. In the attic above the two columns is a full- 
length statue of that goddess, and among the figures on 
the frieze are females weaving, others weighing the thread 
or measuring the webs, others again carrying the calathus ; 
and a sitting veiled figure of Pudicitia, ' ' (page 39. ) 

Here it is most probable the young girls of the Minerva 
school were accustomed to meet, to assist each other in the 
study of the fine arts as represented on the beautiful frieze 
of the portico, the only existing remnant of the magnificent 
temple itself. Daria was gay and cheerful, and surrounded 
by a number of her companions, when the senator Polemius 
and his aged friend mounted the steps of the portico and 
called her aside. Humble and unassuming in her thoughts, 
she was thunder-struck when she heard they had come to 
make her the spouse of Chrysanthus. She was not entitled 
to this position by birth or fortune, and she almost doubted 
the sincerity of the proposal; but finding . Polemius was 
really in earnest, for he entreated her with tears in his eyes, 



CHR YSANTHUS AND DARIA. 289 

she thanked Minerva for her good fortune, and calling a 
faithful slave who always accompanied her, she hurried 
away to the house of the senator, without even telling her 
companions of the strange freak of fortune that was about 
to raise her from her humble position to be mistress in one 
of the first families of Rome. Bright were the castles of 
future bliss she painted before her happy mind, as she 
tripped gaily along by the side of the aged men. Little 
she thought of the designs of an all-seeing and loving Provi- 
dence, that was leading her from darkness to light, and was 
preparing for her joys and delights more beautiful and last- 
ing than even her vivid fancy could paint. 

Arrived at the palace of Polemius, they found the bustle 
and noise of the last few hours had subsided. Chrysanthus 
had his copy of the Holy Scriptures brought to him in the 
triclinium, and was deeply engaged in study when his father 
returned. The girls endeavored to dissuade Daria from 
going into the apartment, but she apparently, through con- 
fidence in her charms, but more truly led on by a super- 
natural influence, determined to discharge the commission 
given to her by his father, to offer herself to him as his 
bride. They dressed her out in the most gorgeous manner, 
jewels and diamonds of priceless worth sparkled on her 
snowy breast, and her beautiful hair was plaited with flowers 
and gold ; the rouge of beauty and health on her cheeks 
required no artificial tint, for nature had given charms no 
art could imitate; the proud and wealthy Cleopatra, of 
Eastern fame, would have changed places with Daria. The 
senator embraced his old friend, and thanked him that he 
had recommended such a beautiful girl to become his 
daughter. But Daria was made for heaven ; a few hours 
will find her an angel. When she entered the triclinium, 
contrary to the expectation of all, she was not overcome 
with sleep ; even Chrysanthus arose, received her kindly, 
25 T 



29O THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

and bade her be seated. He prayed for a moment in his 
heart, and then drawing near, he addressed her in these 
words: "Illustrious and beautiful virgin, if it be for the 
sake of a short-lived union with me, and to induce me, who 
am inflamed with the love of another, to abandon my reso- 
lution, that you have recourse to these costly ornaments and 
beautiful dresses, you are greatly deceived. Would you 
not rather seek the love of the immortal Son of God ? Nor 
is such a task difficult if you wish it ; for if you preserve 
your body and soul free from stain, then the angels of God 
will caress you, the Apostles and martyrs will be your 
friends ; Christ himself will be your spouse, and He who 
is all-powerful will prepare for you a chamber of unsullied 
gems in His everlasting kingdom ; He will preserve im- 
mortal the flower of your youthful beauty, and will inscribe 
your name for a rich dowry in the book of life. ' ' 

Daria was much moved at these words. The shame of 
being considered a mere harlot roused the noblest feelings 
of her heart. The earnestness with which Chrysanthus 
spoke, and the sublime and mysterious promises of happi- 
ness without end, made her fling to the ground the mask of 
deceit and hypocrisy with which she thought to win his 
affections ; her answer was noble and sincere. 

"Believe me, Chrysanthus!" said she, excitedly, "it 
was not the allurements of a base passion that brought me 
before you. I was urged, by the tears of your father, to 
bring you back to your family and the worship of our 
gods." 

" Well, then," said Chrysanthus, " if you have any ar- 
guments by which you can induce me to change my reso- 
lution, I will patiently listen to you ; let us calmly weigh 
these things for our mutual advantage." 

He drew nearer to her, and they commenced a very in- 
teresting and philosophical conversation, which we will give 



CHRYSANTHUS AND DARIA. 29 1 

in an abbreviated form from the Acts, as in Surius, (October 

28.) 

"Nothing," said Daria, "can be more useful or neces- 
sary to man than religion. When we neglect this primary 
duty of our existence, we should fear to excite the anger 
of the gods." 

"And what worship, most wise virgin," asked Chrysan- 
thus, "should we give to the gods? " 

' ' That worship, ' ' she answered, ' l which will induce them 
to protect us. ' ' 

" How can they protect us, which themselves require the 
protection of a dog, lest they should be plundered by noc- 
turnal thieves, and who have to be fastened to their pedes- 
tals by iron nails and lead, to prevent them falling and being 
broken to pieces ? ' ' 

"That is very true," replied Daria; "but if the un- 
lettered multitude of men could worship without images, 
there would be no necessity for making them; now, in- 
deed, they are made of marble and silver and bronze, that 
worshippers may see with their own eyes those whom they 
should love, venerate, and fear." 

"But let us consider a moment," said Chrysanthus, 
" what is said of those images, that we may see if they are 
worthy of our adoration. Certainly, you would not con- 
sider that person or thing a god, which does not show any 
external proof of glory or sanctity. What signs of pro- 
bity has the sword -bearing Saturn, who killed his own 
children the moment they were born, and devoured them, 
as his own worshippers have written of him ? What reason 
have you to praise Jove himself, who has committed crimes, 
homicides, and adulteries, equal in number to the days of 
his life ; plotting the ruin of his father, the murderer of 
his children, the violator of matrons, the husband of his 
own sister, the usurper of kingdoms, and the inventor of 



292 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM, 

magical arts ? Since writers accuse him of these and simi- 
lar impieties, not fit to be mentioned, how can you call him, 
and believe in your heart that he is a god ? What more 
absurd, noble virgin, than to deify kings and generals be- 
cause they have been powerful and brave in deeds of war, 
while the very men who worship them saw them die like 
other mortals? What cause for divinity do you find in 
Mercury ? — that god whom poets and artists love to repre- 
sent with heads of pigs and monsters and outstretched 
wings ; by whose magic arts the hidden treasures of the 
earth are discerned, and the poison of snakes destroyed, 
and yet he performs all his wonders by the power of de- 
mons, to whom he daily sacrifices a cow or a cock ; are 
not such the fables told of him ? Where is the sanctity of 
Hercules, who, fatigued in saving others from fire, at length 
by his own divine inspiration cast himself into the flames, 
and miserably perished with his club and his skin? In 
Apollo himself what virtue have you, either in his Diony- 
sian sacrifices, or his intemperance and incontinency ? It 
remains for us now to speak of the royal Juno, the stupid 
Pallas, and the lascivious Venus." 

Daria started, for she had never heard her beloved 
Minerva called stupid before. 

"Do we not find in them," continued Chrysanthus, 
firmly, "proudly disputing among themselves which is 
the handsomest ? Are not the works of poets and histo- 
rians full of the wars and miseries brought on the human 
race, on account of the slighted beauty of one of these vain 
goddesses ? Since, then, none of these persons are worthy 
of divine honor, in whom will the human race, borne by 
the natural impulse of nature to religion, place its confi- 
dence, to worship as its god? Not surely in the minor 
gods, for they are but the slaves of the others. Does it 
not come to this then, noble virgin, if the greater and more 



CHR YSANTHUS AND DARIA. 293 

powerful gods are so miserable and so impious, much more 
so will those be who worship them ? ' ' 

It might be thought that the power and eloquence of this 
address would have immediately overcome all the prejudices 
and vain confidence that Daria hitherto felt in Paganism, 
but she was gifted with an intelligent and brilliant intellect, 
and her reply to the invectives of Chrysanthus was not only 
apt and beautiful, but rendered the debate extremely in- 
teresting, and hence deeply philosophical. 

"But you are aware, Chrysanthus, that all these things 
are but the fictions of the poets, and not worthy of the 
consideration of serious minds. In the school of our 
philosophers, where prudent men treat of things as they 
really are, the gods are not clothed with the vices you men- 
tion ; their power and providence are expressed by sym- 
bolic names, which have given origin to fancies of poetry. 
Thus, allegorically, time has been called Saturn ; Jupiter is 
another term for heat and light, and the vivifying power 
of nature ; Juno is interpreted to mean air ; Venus, fire ; 
Neptune, the sea; Ceres, the earth; and so on with the 
rest. Do not these things serve us ? are they not worthy 
of honor? " 

"If these things be gods," said Chrysanthus, earnestly; 
".why then do you make images of them, and worship the 
representations of things you have always present? The 
earth is never absent, fire is always at hand, the air sur- 
rounds us everywhere and always. How strange you should 
adore the images of those things, and not the things them- 
selves ! What king or ruler would order his people to de- 
spise himself, but to honor and adore his statue ? Weigh 
for a moment the folly of this theory. Those who worship 
the earth, because of their veneration for its divinity, 
should endeavor to show in their manner respect and honor 
due to the goddess. Should they tear her to pieces by 
2$ * 



294 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ploughs and spades, and trample her ignominiously under 
foot ? There are others who deny she is a goddess at all, 
and lacerate her sides with ploughs and harrows, and show 
contempt rather than respect ; yet, to which of these does 
she open her bosom with the abundance of her harvests 
and delicious fruits? To him, indeed, who blasphemes 
and outrages her great divinity. If she were really a god- 
dess, would this be so ? Thus the fisherman, who goes to 
sea to catch fish, despising its divinity, prospers better than 
the fool who stands on the beach to adore Neptune in the roar- 
ing billows. So with the other elements. They are directed 
by the divine providence of one great God, who created 
them for the benefit of man. They form but the parts of ' 
one great work, and are dependent on one another. The 
earth brings forth its harvests and its fruits, but take away 
the light of the sun, the moistening rains, and the refresh- 
ing dews, and it becomes barren and worthless. The sea 
rolls its mighty tide from shore to shore, and bears on its 
bosom the commerce of nations; it obeys fixed laws, and 
proclaims the power and glory of its Creator. He, then, 
who created the sun, the earth, the sea, the air, and ani- 
mates all nature with the vitality of reproduction, is alone 
worthy of honor, reverence, and worship. The scholar 
does not reverence the letters or books of the preceptor, 
but the preceptor himself. The sick man does not praise 
the material drugs that cure him, but the genius and skill 
of the physician. Thus, noble virgin, since those things 
which you mention as divine, are inanimate and dependent, 
there must be another power to act on them, and animate 
them, — that power is God ! ' ' 

Daria was converted. Chrysanthus had scarcely finished 
this last sublime argument, when she threw herself at his 
feet and begged to be instructed in the knowledge of the 
true God. While he was speaking, her heart was the 



CHR YSANTHUS AND DARIA. 2Q$ 

battlefield of contending powers; vanity and self-love had 
built their castles in her mind, and a deep-seated prejudice 
seemed to have closed all the avenues of conviction ; but 
the Almighty, who influences, but does not force, the free- 
will, sent to her aid the powerful agents of reason and 
grace. The eloquence of Chrysanthus, far more skilled 
in knowledge than the young girl who ventured to reason 
with him, and the sweet, invisible promptings of divine 
grace, made her a willing captive to the gospel of love. 



Almighty God, having brought these two souls to the 
knowledge of the truth, destined them to be vessels of 
election to proclaim His glory, and procure the salvation 
of many souls. When Daria declared her willingness to 
become a Christian, Chrysanthus and herself entered into 
a holy alliance ; they adopted a pious stratagem for their 
mutual benefit and the salvation of others. It was agreed 
they should pass as man and wife before men, vowing their 
chastity at the same time to God. By this stratagem, Daria 
was allowed to go to her own house to prepare for baptism, 
and Chrysanthus was set free by his father. There were 
great rejoicings at this supposed return ; and Polemius gave 
a magnificent entertainment to his friends. Chrysanthus 
fent every day to see Daria, and as soon as she was pre- 
pared, she was baptized, together with her mother, by the 
ioly Pope Cajus. Immediately after her baptism, she re- 
vived from the hands of the holy father the veil of vir- 
ginity, after which, the Acts say, "she was a most holy 
drgin." 

The fire of their zeal communicated itself to every one 
that came in contact with them ; through the same means 
by which they themselves were converted, many others were 
introduced to give up the follies of Paganism and embrace 



296 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

the Christian faith. Numbers of young people gave up the 
world and embraced chastity. Chrysanthus instructed the 
men, and Daria the women. The devil could not suffer 
this good to continue, and consequently raised a storm 
which brought them to the crown of martyrdom. 

There were some wicked young men in the city, who 
had been casting evil eyes on some of the girls converted 
by Daria. Maddened by their loss, and instigated by the 
devil, they went to the prefect of the city and reported that, 
through the machinations of the persons named Chrysanthus 
and Daria, their betrothed wives were stolen away from 
them, and cajoled into the hated sex of Christianity. 
(Clamant adolescentes se deponsuras sibi mulieres amisisse, 
etc.) Some women also said the same of Chrysanthus, and 
the Prefect Celerinus ordered them to be seized at once, 
and if they would not sacrifice to the gods, to be put to the 
torture. Claudius, a tribune of the soldiers, and a man in 
great repute on account of his magical skill, was deputed to 
see these orders executed. It was a happy event for himself 
and his soldiers, as the sequel of our narrative will prove 
He handed Chrysanthus to his brutal soldiers with permis 
sion to torment him as they pleased, until he should con- 
sent to sacrifice. 

It would be impossible to describe the innumerable tor- 
tures and insults offered to this noble youth, who rejoiced 
to imitate our blessed Lord in his sufferings as well as His 
patience. They dragged him with violence to a temple of 
Jupiter outside the city walls, and here they tried every 
species of pain and indignity to induce him to sacrifice. 
Among other things, they procured some thongs of skin 
and moistened them, then tied them as tight as they could 
round his arms and legs, hoping that when the wet leather 
should dry, it would so contract as to cut into the very 
bones ; but the moment they had wound them round the 



CHR YSANTHUS AND DARIA. 297 

saint, and skilfully knotted them, they broke and fell to the 
ground in pieces. 

They then led him back to the city and cast him into a 
most vile prison, and tried to bind him again with a triple 
cord, which fell from him in like manner. They attributed 
all this to magic, and one soldier, more impious than the 
rest, threw some filthy water over him, saying, to the great 
amusement of his companions, "Now your magical arts 
will no longer be of any use to you ; ' ' but instead of a dis- 
agreeable smell, there came a sweet odor as if they had 
sprinkled him with rose-water. He was next put naked 
into the skin of a calf, and left in an open square, to be 
worried by the dogs and scorched by the burning heat of 
the sun. But the servant of God suffered no inconvenience 
from this infliction ; — the dogs came near, snuffed the 
breeze as though some strange scent impregnated the air, 
and then retired quickly as if they had been beaten. Nor 
was his skin cracked or browned, but after a day and a 
night, during which they left him in this state, taking their 
turn in guard to watch him, he was found more cheerful 
and more beautiful than before. They wondered exceed- 
ingly, and once more led him to prison, and hastened to 
tell Claudius, their tribune, all that had happened. 

Claudius came in person to witness the wonders ; and, in 
the pride of his heart, thought he could explain to his igno- 
rant soldiers the process of magic by which miracles were 
wrought. When he arrived at the prison, they found it 
illuminated as if a thousand lamps hung from its gloomy 
walls, and a most beautiful odor came forth like the breezes 
that pass over a garden in spring. Claudius ordered the 
saint to be brought before him ; and, surrounded by his 
rude veterans, he haughtily addressed the servant of God 
in these words : 

" By what power do you perform these wonders ? I have 



2gS THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

subdued all sorcerers and magicians, but I have never comt 
across so much art as yours. As you seem to be an illus- 
trious and wise man, all we will ask of you is, to renounce 
the wicked assembly of the Christians, who excite sedition 
and tumult in the Roman people ; sacrifice to the omnipo- 
tent gods ; and preserve yourself in the dignity of your birth 
and fortune." 

Chrysanthus was praying in his heart for the conversion 
of this well-meaning but ignorant tribune. Assuming a tone 
of independence, and with a gentle reproof, the saint re- 
plied : 

" If you had but one spark of prudence, you would openly 
declare what you have partly confessed ; that it is not by 
magic I do these things, but by the power of the great God. 
You see me in the same manner as you see your own gods; 
yet, if you confess the truth, you will acknowledge they 
have not even the power of hearing or seeing that we have. 
You have a spirit within you that animates your body and 
gives you intelligence. What have these things you call 
gods but dust and lead ? ' ' 

Blasphemy against the gods of the Empire was severely 
punished by the old Roman law; and Claudius, who heard 
them ridiculed by Chrysanthus, felt at the moment the truth 
of what he said. Nevertheless, yielding to the first impulses 
of his Pagan heart, he ordered the saint to be stripped and 
flogged. Rods as hard as iron were brought to inflict the 
severest punishment on him, but the moment they touched 
his flesh they became soft as paper. When the tribune saw 
this miracle he was greatly moved ; grace, which had been 
knocking at his heart, found admission, and he ordered the 
saint to be unbound and clothed again. Every one was 
silent while the soldiers were dressing Chrysanthus ; they 
wondered what the tribune meant by treating him with such 
lenity, or what species of trial he was preparing to shake 



CHRYSANTHUS AND DARIA. 299 

the constancy of the servant of God. But Claudius com- 
manded silence and attention, and then solemnly addressed 
them in these words : 

"You are aware, brave soldiers, that I understand all 
charms and magical arts; this man, I see, does not perform 
these wonders through any magical art, but through the 
assistance of the divine power. You have seen how the 
bonds with which we bound him were broken; he has 
been exposed to the sun without any inconvenience, and his 
fetid prison was turned into a chamber of light and perfume, 
and now the rods of the hardest wood become soft as 
paper when used against him. Wherefore, since in these 
things there appears sincerity and truth, what remains for 
us but that we prostrate ourselves at his feet, asking pardon 
for the iniquities we have committed against him, and beg 
him to reconcile us to that God whose followers are victo- 
rious in every war ? Just as this man conquers us, so would 
he overcome all the rulers and emperors in the world. ' ' 

When he spoke thus, Claudius and all his brave soldiers 
knelt around Chrysanthus, and the noble tribune spoke for 
his companions in arms, and said aloud, "We know, holy 
youth, your God is the true God, and we beseech you to 
tell us something of Him, and reconcile us to Him." 
Chrysanthus wept for joy. His prayer was short and silent 
but powerful ; immediate and abundant was the response. 
That day he baptized the tribune with his wife and children 
together, and a whole cohort of soldiers. He passed some 
days in peace in the house of Claudius, instructing his neo- 
phytes, and preparing them for the trial their young faith 
would soon have to suffer. 

In the meantime intelligence was brought to Numerian 
of what had happened. He commanded that Claudius 
should have a stone tied round his neck, and be cast into 
the sea, and all the soldiers that would not sacrifice to be 



3<X> THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

beheaded. God infused so much grace into their souls, 
that they vehemently desired to die for His sake ; the two 
sons of Claudius confessed themselves Christians, and suf- 
fered a glorious martyrdom ; so also all the soldiers bravely 
exchanged a miserable life in this world for an eternal and 
happy existence in the blissful kingdom of God. 

There happened to be, in the place where they were exe- 
cuted, an old monument appropriated by the Christians 
and used for a little church. It was on the Via Maura, and 
not far from the city. The Christians buried in this monu- 
ment the bodies of Claudius and his soldiers. Hilaria, 
who was still alive, came here frequently to pray, and with 
many tears she besought our Lord to take her with her hus- 
band to the enjoyment of His presence. One day, when 
some Pagans were passing, they discovered her praying, and 
knowing her to be a Christian, they resolved to seize her 
and take her before the Emperor. When they came to- 
ward her for this purpose, she begged of them to allow her 
to pray for one moment longer, and then she would go with 
them wherever they pleased. They consented, and she 
went into the interior of the monument, and stretching her 
arms toward heaven, she asked of Almighty God to save 
her from shame and the terrible trial she would have to 
suffer for the faith. God heard her prayers. When the 
Pagans had waited a few minutes they became impatient, 
and going in to seize her, they found her on the ground 
lifeless. Her happy spirit had flown away to realms of 
bliss. The Pagans were frightened and fled. Two of 
Hilaria' s handmaids, who had been near and were watching 
unobserved the whole proceedings, respectfully buried their 
good mistress in the same tomb beside her martyred hus- 
band and children. 

But let us return to the heroes of this sketch. As it was 
known that Chrysanthus was the cause of the extraordinary 



CHRYSANTHUS AND DARIA. 30 1 

conversion of the legion of Claudius, direr punishment was 
reserved for him. He was cast into the Mamertine prison, 
while they consulted as to what kind of death he should be 
put. The Acts say this was a most deep, gloomy, and 
horrible prison ; he was naked, and bound with massive 
chains from head to foot. Nevertheless, the light, the 
odor, and the joy that had heretofore brightened all the 
dungeons that were sanctified by his presence, did not 
abandon him in the Mamertine prison. Chrysanthus felt 
more happiness and more honor in being cast into the pri- 
son of SS. Peter and Paul than if they had declared him 
Emperor. 

We must now retrace our steps for a moment, and watch 
the fate of the noble and beautiful Daria. As was ever the 
case in' those days of infamy, the first torment inflicted on 
the Christian maiden was that suggested by demons of hell 
— the lupanar. On the morning Daria was seized, she was 
brought before the Emperor himself on account of her 
surpassing beauty. The Acts pass over the interview, but 
it is evident that the noble contempt with which this 
pure soul despised the allurements and promises of the 
Emperor, brought on her his terrible indignation, and, 
in a fit of rage, he ordered her to be exposed in the most 
public lupanar in the city. This was under the arches of 
the Coliseum. While Chrysanthus was performing won- 
ders and baptizing hundreds of souls in one part of the city, 
Daria was the heroine of the most stupendous miracles 
under the arches of the amphitheatre. That Power which 
never abandons the helpless maiden unwillingly cast among 
the impious, knew how to preserve Daria. We will record 
the miracle of her preservation in the precise words of the 
Acts. 

"But to Daria aid was given by a lion which had fled 
from the arena. Having entered the chamber where she 
26 



302 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

was exposed and praying, he placed himself in the middle. 
The citizens, unaware of this, sent into the virgin a most 
impious and false young man. But immediately he entered, 
the lion flew at him, threw him to the ground, and as he 
trampled on him, looked toward the virgin of Christ that 
she might order him what he was to do with the youth. 
Perceiving what he had done, holy Daria said to the lion, 
' I beseech you by the Son of God that you permit him to 
hear what I have to say.' Then the lion, having left him 
free, watched at the door lest any one else would come in. 

' ' Then Daria said to the youth, ' You see the very 
ferocity of the lion, having heard the name of Christ, wor- 
ships God ; but you, unhappy young man, gifted with reason, 
are plunged into so many crimes and impieties ; you boast 
and glory in those very things you ought to be ashamed of. ' 
But the young man prostrated himself at her feet, and be- 
gan to cry out, ( Let me but depart safe, and I will preach 
to everybody that the Christ whom you adore is the only 
true God.' Daria then ordered- the lion to let him pass. 
And when the lion had left the door, he rushed through 
the streets, crying out in a loud voice that Daria was a 
goddess. 

" After this, when some daring men came from the arena 
to seize the lion, he, by divine power, cast every one of 
them to the ground, and held them at the feet of the holy 
virgin, not doing them any harm. Daria then said to them, 
'If you believe in Christ, you may go away in safety; but 
if not, let your own gods free you.' But they cried out, 
with one voice, ' He that does not believe Christ to be the 
living and true God, let him not go out of this place alive ! ' 
And when they had said this, they went away, crying out, 
' Believe, O Romans ! there is no God but Christ, whom 
Daria preaches.' Then Celerinus, the praetor, ordered fire 
to be applied to the chamber where Daria was exposed. 



CHRYSANTHUS AND DARlA. 303 

Seeing the fire, the lion was afraid, and showed signs of 
alarm by roaring. But Daria said to the beast, ' Be not 
afraid ; you will not perish by fire, nor will you be any 
more captured nor killed, but you will die a natural death. 
Cease then to fear, but go away in peace, for He whom you 
have honored in me will protect you. ' Having bowed his 
head, the lion went away, and passing through the middle 
of the city, no one touched him. All those who were 
saved from his mouth were baptized." (Surius, Oct. 28.) 

When all these things were announced to Numerian, he 
ordered Pontius, a praetor, to force Chrysanthus and Daria 
to sacrifice to the gods, or to put them to death by the se- 
verest torments. When the praetor had advised them, and 
tried in vain to make them sacrifice, he ordered Chrysanthus 
to be suspended in the armory. But the instrument was in- 
stantly broken to pieces, and the torches were extinguished. 
Those, on the other hand, who touched Daria, were struck 
with fear, and suffered intense pains. The praetor, seeing 
these things, went quickly to the Emperor to tell him ; but 
he, attributing these things to magical arts, and not to divine 
interference, ordered them to be buried alive in a pit out- 
side of the Salarian gate. His orders were obeyed, and it 
was the will of Almighty God that His servants should thus 
win their crown and come to Himself. Chrysanthus and 
Daria were led out of the city, followed by a great crowd, 
and when put into the large pit they sung a hymn together. 
They were overwhelmed by the stones and earth which the 
Pagans cast on them, and finding their death and their 
grave in the same spot, they passed away united in spirit to 
the eternal nuptials of the Lamb of God. 

Soon after their martyrdom, their tomb became the scene 
of stupendous miracles and innumerable conversions. The 
people flocked thither in fearless crowds, so that it became 
publicly spoken of, and Numerian ordered his soldiers to 



304 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

remove every vestige of the tomb, so that the Christians 
could not assemble there in future. The soldiers came one 
'morning after the celebration of the holy mysteries, and, 
rushing on the congregation, put a great many to death. 
Among those who thus fell on the tomb of the martyrs was 
the priest Diodorus, the deacon Marianus, and the clerics, 
and many whose names are not known. 

The Acts of these great saints conclude with these words : 
"We, Varinus and Armenius, brothers, have written those 
things as they happened by the orders of the most holy Pope 
Stephen, and we have sent (these Acts) to every city, that 
all may know that the holy martyrs Chrysanthus and Daria 
have received the crown of martyrdom in the celestial king- 
dom from God : to whom be glory and power, now, and 
for evermore." 






CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. 

HE persecution of Diocletian was by far the se- 
verest and most general of all the persecutions 
of the Church. A countless number of martyrs 
was sent to heaven, and the Church commenced, 
in the midst of all the cruelties and horrors of this visitation, 
that glorious career of triumph which diffused her influence 
and carried the blessings of the faith far beyond the limits 
of the great Roman Empire itself. The opening of the 
fourth century beheld the battle between herself and the 
powers .of this world ; she triumphed, and holds to this day 
the power she gained. Before quoting any of the Acts of 
the glorious martyrs of this reign who suffered in the Coli- 
seum, we will give our readers an outline of this terrible 
persecution; how it was brought about, and the happy con- 
sequences that followed. 

We will not tarry over the strange vicissitudes of fortune 
that placed such a man as Diocletian at the head of the 
Roman Empire. He was a slave, and born of a slave, and 
won his honor as a brave barbarian in the ranks of the army. 
He was named General by Probus, and on the death of 
Carinus was declared Caesar by his own troops. His char- 
acter was a compound of ignorance, pride, avarice, and 
cruelty. Superstition, which is ever the characteristic of 
26* U 3°5 



306 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

weak minds, found its home and triumph in his wicked, 
cowardly heart. He believed in the oracles, and had im- 
plicit faith in all they said. A strange coincident gave 
him great reverence for these Pagan delusions. A Gaulish 
Druidess told him, while he was yet a general, that he 
would become Emperor when he had slain a boar. He 
assassinated, with his own hand, the murderer of Numerian, 
and was soon after declared Emperor ; this, he thought, was 
the fulfilment of the prophecy. It was the oracle of Apollo, 
as we shall see further on, that made him persecute the 
Christians. 

Diocletian had a friend. He was an ignorant, low-born 
soldier named Maximian, whom blind fortune had also fa- 
vored, and from being his companion in the army, he was 
raised to be part-ruler in the Empire. Ignorant and cruel 
like Diocletian, he was a meet instrument in the hands of 
the powers of darkness, who were preparing for a tremen- 
dous onslaught on the Church of God. They divided the 
Empire between them. Diocletian preferred the luxury of 
the East, and left to Maximian the ill-fated West. 

Strange to say, in the first years of Diocletian all was 
sunshine and calm in that part of the Empire which he 
retained for himself. Eusebius in his eighth book gives 
a glowing description of the prosperity of the Church in 
those regions. While it is perfectly certain that Diocletian 
mistrusted and even hated the Christians, he seems to have 
refrained from molesting them through fear. Their num- 
bers at this time were immense ; public indignation against 
them had more or less subsided ; the political disturbances 
of the last four years had turned the Pagan mind towards 
passing events, while the ever- watchful and ever-active spirit 
of faith, taking advantage of the calm, walked abroad in 
search of souls, and publicly preached the gospel of the Lord. 
A few months' tranquillity was sufficient for the prostrate 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. 307 

Church to rise from its ruins. The moment there was a lull 
in the storm of persecution, thousands were seen thronging 
round the cross, and catechumens and neophytes swelled 
the ranks of the Christians that were decimated during the 
struggle. Thus when Diocletian came to the throne, nearly 
half of the Empire were Christians. The Church of the 
East was particularly flourishing ; led on by the Basils, the 
Gregorys, and a host of martyred heroes, it had already 
struck its roots too deep in the soil to be blighted by this 
most terrible persecution the Church ever suffered. Even 
in Nicomedia, which bore the central shock of the tempest, 
she was only concealed when Diocletian and Galerius 
thought she was annihilated. So flourishing were the 
Christians, that even the wife and some of the children of 
the Emperor had embraced the faith, and many of the offi- 
cials of the imperial household openly professed Christianity. 
M How so much glory and liberty were given to us before 
this persecution," says Eusebius, "I cannot explain. Per- 
haps it was the benignity of the Emperor, who even com- 
mitted to us the care of provinces, removing all fear of 
having to sacrifice to the gods in consideration of the esteem 
in which he held our religion. What use is it to speak of 
the numbers of the imperial palaces, their wives, their 
children and domestics, to whom he gave liberty of openly 
worshipping God ? Who could describe the innumerable 
crowd of men who daily flocked to the faith of Christ, the 
number of churches in every city, and the crowds of illus- 
trious persons who gathered into the sacred edifices of the 
true God ? The old churches were no longer sufficient, 
but new and larger ones were raised from their foundations. 
Thus our holy faith progressed more and more every day, 
in spite of the malignity of demons and the plottings of 
wicked men, while the Lord deemed us worthy of the pro- 
tection of His right hand." * These last words of the great 
1 Eusebius, Hist. Eccl., lib. viii. cap. 1. 



30 8 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

historian are ominous, for he is but writing his introduction 
to the most terrible of his oft-told tales of death and perse- 
cution. 

Although Eusebius speaks in the strongest terms of the 
general peace of the Church, and the apparent partiality 
of the Emperor, we must not forget that Diocletian was a 
hypocrite, and acted in those first years of his reign with 
toleration toward the Christians rather through a low, 
cowardly policy, than through real favor and indulgence. 
In certain parts even of the provinces reserved to himself, 
the persecution raged with more or less violence, according 
to the pleasure of the governors, and in virtue of the unre- 
pealed edicts of Aurelian, still in force against the Chris- 
tians. In the province of Egea in Licia, and in the first 
year of his reign (285), we read of the. martyrs Claudius, 
Asterius, Neone, and their companions. There are monu- 
ments which show that the persecution still raged in other 
provinces. 1 All this must have been known to Diocletian; 
he permitted the persecution, where he could have so easily 
prevented it. However, this hypocrisy was a virtue com- 
pared to the blood-thirsty cruelty of his latter years. 

We must turn our eyes for a moment to Maximian. This 
wretch, raised so unexpectedly to the purple, set no bounds 
to his passions. He hated the Christians even more than 
Diocletian. One of his first acts was to put to death in 
Gaul a whole legion of Christian soldiers. They were the 
best and bravest soldiers in his army, and amounted to 
more than six thousand. 2 They were sent specially from 
the East to assist him in quelling disturbances of a formi- 
dable character. All over the West, the noblest and richest 
were brought to the axe to satiate the cruelty and avarice of 
this monster. 

1 Bollandists, August 23. Also in Tillemont, torn. v. Persecution 
de l'Eglise sous Diocletien, art. 2. 

2 See Ruinart, Acta S. Mauri et Sociorum. 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. 3O9 

Nevertheless, the Church was advancing on every side, 
and Eusebius does not hesitate to call these days a calm. 
But alas ! that calm had an evil effect upon the Church ; the 
rigidity of the ancient morals became relaxed, and disorders 
were gradually creeping in. "The quiet liberty," says 
Eusebius, " granted to us by the Lord, that we might attend 
more tranquilly to the observance of His precepts, was 
abused by us. There crept among us the spirit of envy and 
ill-feeling ; an intestine war raged ; the weapons with which 
we sought to injure each other were our detracting tongues; 
fraud, falsehood, and hypocrisy were usurping the control 
of the actions of men, and the scourge was already taken 
into the divine hands. We saw it fall somewhat heavily on 
those who served in the army, yet we were so callous to 
every warning of the gospel, that we did not endeavor by 
timely penance to avert from ourselves the threatened storm, 
which we saw gathering around us. Like blind and foolish 
people, who did not image that human events are directed 
and ordained by a superior Providence, for its own wise 
ends, we continued to tempt God by adding new and deeper 
crimes to our former guilt. At length, Almighty God, ac- 
cording to the prediction of Jeremias, covered the daughter 
of Sion with confusion, and cast to the ground the celestial 
glory of Israel, and in the day of His anger the Lord did 
not remember the footstool of His feet." * 

The powers of darkness seemed to have measured every 
step, and to have advanced cautiously before coming down 
with all their fury on the sleeping camp of Israel. Another 
monster in human shape is sent on earth to have power ; he 
surpasses either of the reigning Cassars in villany, cruelty, 
and sin of every kind. This man was Galerius. 

Diocletian, in whom timidity and fear had become im- 
becility, conceived the idea of dividing the Empire into 
1 In the first chap, of eighth book, as quoted above. 



310 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

two more parts. The constant disturbances of the barba- 
rians, who threatened on every side, and even some internal 
revolts, induced this short-sighted Emperor to adopt this 
suicidal policy. His idea was to nominate two additional 
Caesars, who would have full power to defend and rule their 
relative districts, without bearing the name of Emperor. 
For this purpose he nominated Constantius Chlorus, a man 
of noble birth and deserving qualities, and Galerius, the 
son of a peasant, a soldier of fortune. 

For some years Galerius was occupied in quelling the dis- 
turbances on the frontiers of the Empire. Through the 
prayers of the Christian soldiers in his army, he gained a 
complete triumph over the Persians. His pride, of course, 
was keeping pace with his fortune, and he returned so puffed 
up with his greatness, that he despised his benefactor and 
determined to be Emperor himself. His mother was still 
alive. She too was cruel and superstitious ; the only edu- 
cation she gave her son was hatred of the Christians. On 
the return of Galerius from the East, she had scarcely em- 
braced him when she commenced to revile the Christians, 
and commanded her son to persecute them. 

Galerius ruled in the province of Illyrium, and here he 
first drew his sword against the Church. He commenced 
with his own household, and then with the army. 1 The 
slaves of his impious mother were burnt at the kitchen-fires, 
while she herself looked on like a fury, in brutal glee. In 
the army, the first officers in power were ordered to put the 
Christians to death, but finding they were too numerous, 
and that two-thirds of their number would be destroyed, 
the order was modified, and only a few of the most remark- 

1 " (Galerius Maximianus) diu ante reliquos imperatores, christianos 
qui in exercitu militabant ac pnesertim eos qui in palatio suo versaban- 
tur, per vim abducere a religione sua conatus est," &c. — Euseb. cap. 
xviii. 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. . 31I 

able were executed ; at the same time all the others were 
debarred from any promotion or emolument arising from 
the service. When we say a few only were martyred, they 
were few compared to the great number who survived ; 
nevertheless, they may be counted by thousands. In the 
Acts of St. Andrew, who was tribune of a legion in the 
army of Galerius, we read that he was martyred about the 
year 300, together with three thousand companions. 1 But 
prudence restrained the sword of Galerius, and forbade the 
blow he intended to strike — the hour destined by Provi- 
dence had not yet arrived, but was coming fast. 

For four years he had desired the total extermination of 
the Christians. He knew by experience that they went like 
lambs to the slaughter; that they neither murmured nor 
revolted against the unjust sentence. With fiendish malice 
he conceived the idea of procuring a simultaneous, and 
universal persecution throughout the entire Empire, to 
sweep forever from the face of the earth the hated name 
of Christian. To effect this, he saw that an edict from 
Diocletian was necessary. He set out for Nicomedia, where 
Diocletian was residing, and did not leave till he had 
effected his purpose. 

This was in the year 302. Nevertheless, Diocletian 
trembled at the thought of a wholesale slaughter of the 
Christians, His natural timidity tortured his 'mind with 
pictures of revolts, and insurrections, and civil war which 
might hurl him from his throne. Notwithstanding the 
supernatural warnings of his dreaded oracles, and the cease- 
less entreaties of Galerius and his impious mother, Diocle- 
tian feared to take the terrible step, and delayed, while he 
could, to sign the fatal edict. Galerius, seeing that en- 
treaty failed, assumed the haughty tone of defiance, and 
Diocletian at length consented, if the oracle of Apollo 
1 Bollandists, 19th August 



312 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

should recommend it. A seer was sent to the oracle, and 
a bribe from Galerius brought back the answer that the 
Christians were hostile to the gods. The die was cast. 
The month, the day, and the hour were named, when the 
three demons should be unchained, and the Church of God 
cast into desolation and woe. The Terminal Games, which 
were celebrated every year with great pomp, were at hand, 
and the first day of these games, the 23d of February, 303, 
was selected for the commencement of the persecution. 
Messengers were dispatched to the governors of the pro- 
vinces to be in readiness, to prepare the rack, the furnace, 
and the sword for the servants of Christ. Many of them 
rejoiced at the prospect of this feast of blood. The ex- 
termination of a hated sect was ever welcome, but the hope 
of boundless wealth from the murdered Christians pouring 
into their coffers, and increased favor with the august 
Caesar, produced in their corrupted hearts a zeal and a co- 
operation in the terrible cause that rendered this persecution 
not only the most general, but by far the most destructive, 
that ever passed over the Church. 

The Christians knew the hour of trial was coming. Per- 
secutions were not inaptly compared to the storms on the 
deep, and the Church was the little bark of Peter that was 
to brave the raging elements. There were signs in the 
heavens that told of the approaching struggle ; their future 
was dark and gloomy, like the horizon when the storm is 
coming up. The voices of the pastors rang through the 
churches like the shrill whoop of the sea-gull, breasting the 
rising surges, and giving its well-known storm-cry. The 
women and children were sent to the cabins of the Cata- 
combs for safety, while every loose spar was lashed to the 
bulwarks, and every sail was reefed. The bishops had 
gathered their trembling flocks together, and addressed 
them with a fervor and eloquence which made them martyrs 



THE PERSE CUTION OF DID CLE TIAN. 3 1 3 

in desire before the axe of the executioner brought them 
their crown. While brave youths, with hearts of oak, like 
Sebastian and Pancratius, remained in the cities to bear the 
brunt of the fight, and to encourage their weaker brethren, 
tender maidens of noble blood, like Agnes and Prisca, 
buried themselves in the solitude of country villas, and 
prayed with fluttering hearts, like frightened doves sighing 
in their cots. The anticipation of evil is often more pain- 
ful than the stroke itself. Before the terrible edict was 
promulgated many churches were abandoned, and the altar 
and sacrifice were removed to the private room of some 
obscure Christian, or to the archisoliums of the Catacombs. 
The timid Marcellinus was the pilot of the Church during 
the commencement of the storm, — even he lost courage 
in the fury of the tempest ; he abandoned the helm for a 
moment, but claimed it again like Peter, and sank at his 
post. The pious matron Lucina had given her garden and 
villa outside the Porta Capena for a new cemetery, and as 
far as the time permitted, the Church in Rome was girded 
for the struggle. 

At length the bloody edict is ready. A copy is sent 
from Nicomedia to Rome and Illyrium. Galerius, the 
prime mover of the persecution, so longed for the dawn 
of the dreadful day, that he determined to keep its vigil. 
. The Christians had built a beautiful church on a hill that 
looked down on the city of Nicomedia. It could be seen 
from the windows of the palace where the Emperor lived. 
Scarcely had the morning of the 23d of February dawned, 
when a troop of soldiers was sent to destroy the church. 
They seized everything that was inside, books, furniture, 
and some vestments, and burned them in the piazza ; then 
with yells and shouts, they levelled the building to the 
ground. The Emperor and Caesar were enjoying the scene 
from a window in the palace, and rewarded the soldiers on 
27 



314 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

their return for their noble and brave conduct. The next 
morning the parchment scroll that announced a crown of 
eternal glory for thousands of the chosen children of God, 
was hung on the marble columns of the Forum of Nico- 
media. 

The edict should have been published at the same time 
throughout the Empire, but through some secret jealousy 
of the Senate, it was deferred in Rome until the 15th of 
the Kalends of May. The haughty Senate still clung to 
the rights of its original institution, and flattered itself that 
its nominal power was a reality. Nevertheless, like a dis- 
mantled and abandoned fortress, it cast its proud shadow 
on the plain as in the days of its glory, and impeded for a 
while the fall of the uplifted sword. But the demon was 
not to be robbed of its prey. The Roman mob was ac- 
customed to obey his suggestions, and were willing agents 
for every insult offered to the true God. It was in one of 
the paroxysms of brutal excitement that the terrific shout 
which had so often echoed through the benches of the 
Coliseum was made to resound through the Circus Maxi- 
mus. Infuriated myriads of the dregs of the people rose 
as if with a simultaneous impulse, and shouted, " Chris- 
tian! tollantur ! ' ' " Away with the Christians ! ■ ' was twelve 
times repeated by a chorus of four hundred thousand blood- 
thirsty voices. This was followed by cries, ten times re- 
peated, of " Death and extermination to the Christians ! " 
Wherefore, it was agreed by the Senate that a persecution 
should be declared against the Christians, and it was decreed 
accordingly. (See Acts of St. Sabinus in Baronius, under 
the year 301). 

In Nicomedia, a wealthy Christian gentleman was passing 
through the Forum on the morning the edict was published. 
In the excess of his zeal he imprudently tore it to pieces, 
and scattered it to the winds. He was seized, and was 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLE TIAM. 3 1 $ 

roasted to death at a slow fire before the palace of Diocle- 
tian. 1 Galerius raged with more fury than ever; revenge 
and desperation gave a deeper dye to his natural cruelty. 
The first edict was too lenient for his purpose, and he will 
have another, written in characters of blood. The author 
of "Death of the Persecutors of the Church" tells us how 
he procured the second edict. 

" By the assistance of some confidants, he set fire to the 
royal palace. As soon as the conflagration was discovered, 
the agents of the impious Emperor commenced to cry out 
aloud that the Christians were the cause of the fire, and 
were the enemies of the sovereign ; so that the flames of 
infernal hatred against the Christians burned more furiously 
in the hearts of the Gentiles than the material flames that 
were devastating the imperial dwelling. ' ' (De Morte Perse- 
cutorum, cap. xiii. ; also in Baronius, a. d. 201.) 

Another and another edict followed the first : they were 
more sweeping and more terrible than any law ever before 
published. They were directed in a particular manner 
against ecclesiastics, churches, sacred writings, and virgins. 
Horrible to relate, one of the enactments of these edicts 
was, that every young girl that would not sacrifice was to 
become public property. 2 But the lightnings of God were 
ever ready to defend his helpless spouses ; and wherever 
they attempted to put this impious law into execution, death 
and judgment were the immediate issue. The machinations 
of the wicked Galerius did not cease here. Seeing the suc- 
cess of his first stratagem, fifteen days had scarcely passed, 
when he set fire again to the imperial palace, and throwing the 
blame on the Christians, made Diocletian believe they were 

1 In the Martyrologies of Ado and Usuardus this man is called John, 
and is commemorated on the 7th of September. 

2 See Acts of St. Theodora, April ; also Tillemont, vol. v. art. 19; 
also Baronius, Anno 301, No. 31 and following. 



3l6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

incendiaries who wished to burn him alive in his own palace. 
Galerius fled in trepidation, as .he said he was not safe while 
there was a Christian in the palace. All these plans had the 
desired effect on the weak-minded Diocletian, and from be • 
ing a mere instrument in the hand of his colleague, he be- 
came the most terrible enemy of the Church, and surpassed, 
if such were possible, the cruelties of the other two. 

' ' His fury against the Christians, ' ' says Lactantius, ' ' had 
now reached the highest ; he no longer persecuted a few, 
but every one and everywhere. He first obliged Valeria, 
his daughter, and Prisca, his wife, to contaminate them- 
selves with the Gentile sacrifices. He put to death his fa- 
vorite eunuchs, who had the direction of the whole court 
and the immediate service of his own person ; priests and 
other ministers were seized and slaughtered without any 
trial, and men and women of every age were subjected to 
the most cruel torture. The number of the accused being 
great, they were put to death in crowds. Immense fires 
were kindled around them, and thus consumed them to- 
gether. The Emperor's domestics were flung into the sea 
with stones round their necks. In all the temples of the 
gods there were placed judges, whose sole business was to 
make the people sacrifice ; the public prisons were full, and 
every new and unheard-of torture was tried to pervert the 
Christians, or tear them to pieces." (As above, chap, xiv.) 

The war of extermination is now fully declared, and the 
battle is raging over the whole Empire. The province of 
Gaul was the only spot that escaped its fury. It was at this 
time under Constantius Chlorus, the father of Constantine 
the Great. He was just and unprejudiced against the Chris- 
tians, and where he could, he prevented wholesale murder 
and slaughter. Some of the governors under him confis- 
cated the goods of the Christians and occasionally put them 
to death ; yet Gaul was spared the terrible horrors of the 






THE PERSE CUTION OF DIO CLE TIAN. 3 1 7 

other portions of the Empire. The descriptions of this hour 
of trial left us by Lactantius, Eusebius, and the immortal 
Basil, 1 would fill volumes, — volumes that would be sacred 
in the eyes of the Church, for in showing the virulence and 
universality of the persecution, they declare the glory and 
greater triumph of that divine institution which has survived 
it, and stands on the Rock of Ages as indestructible to-day 
as when the impious Galerius sought to annihilate it. 

Everything that human and demoniacal malice could sug- 
gest was tried for the extermination of the Christians. "It 
was, moreover, proclaimed," writes a holy martyr quoted 
by Eusebius in his eighth book, "that no one should have 
any care or pity for us, but that all persons should so think 
of and behave themselves towards us as if we were no longer 
men." The eloquent Basil, in one of his sublime pane- 
gyrics on the Christian martyrs, says: "The houses of the 
Christians were wrecked, and laid in ruins ; their goods 
became the prey of rapine, their bodies of ferocious lictors, 
who tore them like wild beasts, dragging their matrons by 
their hair along the streets — callous alike to the claims of 
pity for the aged, or those still in tender years. The inno- 
cent were submitted to torments usually reserved only for 
the vilest criminals. The dungeons were crowded with the 
inmates of Christian homes that now lay desolate ; and the 
trackless deserts and the forest caves were filled with fugi- 
tives whose only crime was the worship of Jesus Christ. In 
these dark times the son betrayed his father, the sire im- 
peached his own offspring, the servant sought his master's 
property by denouncing him, the brother sought a, brother's 
blood, — for none of the claims or ties of humanity seemed 
any longer to be recognized, so completely had all been 

1 Eusebius and Lactantius were eye-witnesses ; Basil saw the effects 
of the persecution, for he flourished in the first half of the fourth cen- 
tury. 

27* 



318 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

blinded as if by a demoniac possession. Moreover, the 
house of prayer was profaned by impious hands ; the most 
holy altars were overturned ; nor was there any offering of 
the clean oblation, nor of incense ; no place was left for 
the divine mysteries , all was profound tribulation, a thick 
darkness that shut out all comfort ; the sacerdotal colleges 
were dispersed, no synod nor council could meet for terror 
of the slaughter that raged on every side ; but the demons 
celebrated their orgies and polluted all things by the smoke 
and gore of their victims." (Orat. in Gordium Mart.) 

Lactantius says: "The whole earth was afflicted and 
oppressed ; and three wild beasts of the most brutal char- 
acter roared from east to west in their rage to devour the 
Christians. If I had a hundred tongues and a hundred 
mouths, if my voice were of iron, I could not relate the 
horrors of the Gentile cruelty, nor the names and quality 
of torments they used against the Christians." (De Mort. 
Pers., cap. xvi.) 

To find out the Christians, they had recourse to some 
malicious but ridiculous stratagems. Besides the court 
spies, whose name was legion, it was enacted that idols 
should be erected in all provision shops, so that not even 
the necessaries of life could be purchased without sacrific- 
ing to the demons. Every piazza, every fountain, every 
bakehouse, and every butcher's stall, had its little statue of 
some fabulous god, a pan of fire and a box of incense. 
Those who wished to buy must first burn some incense to 
the idol, and an officer of the government stood by to insist 
on the absurd homage intended for the demons. To such 
excess did they carry the rage for sacrifice, that old men 
who had not left their homes for years were dragged to the 
public squares to burn incense, and tender infants in their 
mother's arms were made to join in this blasphemous 
mockery of the true God. 1 

1 St. Optatus Mili vitus, lib. i. and iii. 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. 319 

If we were to recount the terrible sufferings of the Chris- 
tians under the new and unheard-of tortures (as Lactantius 
calls them) invented by the persecutors, we should fill 
pages of horrible scenes that would send a cold thrill 
through every vein of our bodies. They would surpass 
everything the cruellest fancy ever imagined . Fire, water, 
iron, and the brutal strength of incarnate demons, lent all 
their combinations to produce pain, to burn, to tear and 
destroy ; the highest science was to kill by the slowest tor- 
tures. The shame of being stript before brutal mobs was 
more painful to Christian youths of both sexes than the 
scourge or the rack. There was as little pity or mercy 
for the tender girl of eight years as for the old man of 
eighty. 

To increase the horrors of these days, the mangled 
bodies of their victims were deprived of burial, and often 
left for days in the public squares, or thrown into the fields 
outside the cities, to be devoured by dogs or birds of prey. 
Orders were issued to have these bodies guarded day and 
night, lest the Christians should take them away and honor 
them. ' ' You might have seen, ' ' says Eusebius, ' c no small 
number of men executing this savage and barbarous com- 
mand ; some of whom, as if this had been a matter of 
high concern and moment, watched on a tower, that the 
dead might not be stolen away. Also the wild beasts, dogs, 
and birds, that prey on flesh, scattered here and there 
pieces of human bodies j and the whole city" was strewed 
round about with men's bowels and bones, so that nothing 
seemed more cruel and horrid, even to those who before 
had been our enemies. All persons bewailed, not so much 
the calamitous condition of those on whom these cruelties 
were practised, as the opprobrium cast on themselves and 
mankind in general." No wonder such barbarities should 
wring tears from the hardest marble, for Eusebius continues 



320 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

to record in the same chapter one of the most extraordinary 
miracles related in his history of the early Church : 

"After these horrible barbarities had been practised for 
many days together, the following miracle took place. 
The weather was fair, the atmosphere was clear, and the 
whole face of heaven most serene and bright ; when on a 
sudden, from all the columns that supported the public 
galleries throughout the city, there fell many drops in the 
form of tears, and the Forum and streets (no moisture hav- 
ing been distilled from the air) were wet and bedewed with 
water from some unknown source ; insomuch that a report 
was immediately spread among all the inhabitants, that the 
earth, unable to bear the horrid impieties then committed, 
did, in this inexplicable manner, shed tears, and that the 
stones and senseless matter wept at what was done, in order 
to reprove the savage and brutal propensities of man. I 
make no doubt," continues Eusebius, "but that this will 
be looked on as a fabulous and ridiculous story by future 
generations ; but they did not count it such who had the 
certainty thereof confirmed to them by the authority of 
the times in which it happened." l 

This was a strange phenomenon ; but no matter how it 
may be accounted for, the very interpretation put on it by 
the Pagans themselves must ever remain to attest the moral 
triumph achieved by the Christians over the minds and 
sympathies of their persecutors. 

It would be impossible to make even an approximate 
calculation of the numbers that were massacred during this 
persecution. For ten long years the storm blew over the 
Empire, and while the blood of thousands flowed in a con- 
tinuous stream from the public scaffolds, a much greater 
number perished in the deserts, or in the unhealthy caves 
of the earth. From an ancient catalogue published by 
1 De Mart. Palest, cap. ix, 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. 32 1 

Papebrochius, it appears that in one place, during the lapse 
of thirty days, fifteen thousand were put to death. Euse- 
bius calls them " an innumerable company throughout every 
province." In Thebais alone, he himself beheld, during 
a succession of years, ten, twenty, thirty, and even sixty 
of a day put to death. " At another time, a hundred men, 
with very little children and women, were killed in one 
day, being condemned to various sorts of punishments ; inso- 
much that the executioner's sword became blunt, and being 
unfit for use, was broken, and the executioners themselves 
being tired, succeeded one another by turns. At which 
time also," he continues, "we beheld a most admirable 
ardor of mind, and a truly divine strength and alacrity, 
in those who believed in Christ, for no sooner was sentence 
pronounced against the first, than others ran hastily from 
some other direction to make loud profession of their faith 
before the judge's tribunal. (Book viii. chap, ix.) 

He also relates of a city in Phrygia of which the gover- 
nor, the magistrates, and all the citizens were Christians, 
how they all declared with evangelical firmness their deter- 
mination to die rather than sacrifice. Fire was set to the 
•entire city, and soldiers were drawn around as in a siege, 
that no one should escape. Thus the whole population, 
men, women, and children, were destroyed, and went 
together to eternal crowns of glory. Baronius also makes 
mention (a. d. 301, No. 47) of a whole congregation who 
were burnt in their church on a Christmas morning. 

Perhaps nothing will give us a better idea of the wide- 
spread virulence of the persecution than the impression 
made on the minds of the Emperors that they had com- 
pletely destroyed Christianity. So utterly impossible did 
it appear to them that the Christian Church could any 
longer subsist, that, in the security and unhesitating antici- 
pation of the event, pompous inscriptions were set up in 



322 THE martyrs of the coliseum. 

various places to commemorate, among other exploits of 
the Emperors, that they had destroyed the superstition of 
Christ. The following are two specimens of the lying in- 
scriptions : 

1 ' DIOCLETIANUS. IOVIUS. ET. MAXIMIANUS. 

HERCULEUS. CMS. AUGG. 

AMPLIFICATO. PER. ORIENTEM. ET. 

OCIDENTEM. IMP. ROM. 

ET. 

NOMINE. CHRISTIANORUM. 

DELETO. QUI. REMP. EVER. 

TEBANT. ' ' X 

Again : 

"DIOCLETIANUS. OES. 
AUG. GALERIO. IN. ORIENTE. ADOPT. 
SUPERSTITIONE. CHRIST. 
UBIQUE. DELETA. ET. CULTU. 
DEORUM. PROPAGATO. ' ' ? 

We smile when we look at these inscriptions, and then 
at the Catholic Church as she is at present with her two 
hundred millions of subjects. The whole population of 
the Roman Empire did not number as many as she can 
count in her pale to-day. A few months after these slabs 
were attached to the walls of the palace, a Christian sat on 
the very throne of the Emperor himself. While the sculp- 
tor was carving the inscription on what he considered the 
tombstone of the annihilated sect, Constantine was mar- 
shalling his troops beyond the Alps, and had perhaps already 
read the terrible sign in the heavens that told him he was 

1 " Diocletian Jupiter, and Maximianus Hercules, Csesars, having 
extended the Roman Empire through the East and West, and de- 
stroyed the name of the Christians, who were ruining the state." 

2 " Diocletian, Csesar Augustus, and Galerius, adopted in the East, 
having everywhere swept away the superstition of Christ, and propa- 
gated the worship of the gods." 



THE PERSECUTION OF' DIOCLETIAN. 323 

destined by the Great Eternal to liberate His Church and 
destroy for ever the power of the Pagan ; yea, when those 
marble slabs were brought from the workshop, and reflected 
for the first time the light of heaven from their polished sur- 
faces, the reigning successor of St. Peter was making new 
divisions of his parishes in Rome, increasing them to the 
number of twenty-five, in order to meet the religious exi- 
gencies of his people, who were multiplying under the 
sword ! 1 How strange to reflect that monuments were once 
erected to commemorate the downfall of Christianity ! It 
was at that very time on the eve of its triumph, while the 
dynasty that endeavored to crush it was in the throes of dis- 
solution. Those very monuments are preserved as curiosi- 
ties in the museum of the Christian successor of the Caesars ; 
their reign of terror passed away to give place to the milder 
sway of the power they thought no more ; and now their 
golden houses, their triumphal arches and colossal amphi- 
theatres, are but ruins beside the churches that cover the 
relics of the martyrs whom they slew. Little did Diocletian 
and Galerius think, when they read with complacency the 
monuments that commemorated their wonderful doings, 
that the time would come when a Christian traveller, from 
an unknown island in the Southern Ocean (New Zealand), 
would read the same slabs in the morning in the Vatican 
Museum, and in the evening sit on a broken arch of the 
Coliseum to sketch the ruins of the golden palace ! 

Yet these interesting inscriptions tell a terrible tale of the 
fierceness of the persecution. Every vestige of the Church 
was swept from the face of the earth. It was pulled down 

1 " Hie (Marcellus Papa) fecit ccemeterium Via Salaria et viginti 
quinque titulos in urbe constituit quasi dioeceses propter baptismum et 
poenitentium multorum qui convertebantur ex paganis et sepulturas mar- 
tyrum." — Ex Lib. Pont, in Vit. Morul. ; and Baronius, Anno 309, 
No. 4. 



324 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

indeed from the high places, and banished from the circles 
of the rich, but it flourished in the cabins of the poor, who 
were too despicable to be molested by the haughty Pagan. 
It lived in the Catacombs, whose dark gloomy passages ter- 
rified the most zealous of the persecutors ; and while the 
Emperors and their agents saw no longer any traces of the 
Church on the earth, the Christians were gathered in thou- 
sands deep in the bowels of the earth, and celebrated the 
sacred mysteries in basilicas ornamented with all the beau- 
ties of art, and chanted the praises of God before marble 
altars decorated with gold and blazing with light. It could 
not be otherwise. Almighty God did not intend that His 
Church should be destroyed. He permitted the visitation 
in His own all-wise providence; but had He not kept His 
hand stretched over it, they would have watched in vain 
who were set to guard the city. "Nisi Dominus custo- 
dieret civitatem, frustra vigilat qui custodit earn." (Ps. 
cxxvi.) 

But Christianity had triumphed and achieved its own 
emancipation even before the cross was assumed as the 
signal of victory by Constantine. Proof sufficient had al- 
ready been afforded that the Church stood in need of no 
earthly patronage, and could stand without the smiles, or 
even the toleration, of the world's rulers. Its most power- 
ful and deadly enemies were made in the end to bite the 
dust in deep humiliation, and proclaim to the world by 
public edicts that they failed to destroy the Church. The 
edicts of emancipation issued by the impious Galerius on 
his death-bed seemed to be destined by Almighty God as 
a solemn finale to all the edicts and efforts of three centu- 
ries to crush and annihilate His Church. They were pro- 
clamations to the whole world and to all generations that, 
m despite of the Empire, with all its terrors and its might, 
it could not only subsist, but flourish and triumph \ that, in 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. 325 

a word, its history, its perennity, and supernatural mis* 
sion, were epitomized by its great founder himself when He 
said, " The gates of hell shall not prevail against 
it." 

We will translate a paragraph of the last edict issued by 
the tyrant Galerius, as an interesting and touching contrast 
with the inscriptions that declared that Christianity was a 
thing of' the past. 

" Whereby all men may know, that they who desire to 
follow this sect and religion are allowed by this, our 
gracious indulgence, to apply themselves to that religion 
which they have usually followed, in such a manner as is 
acceptable and pleasing to every one of them. Moreover, 
we do permit them to rebuild their chapels. 

" That if any houses or estates which formerly belonged 
to and were in possession of the Christians, and are by the 
edicts of our parents (Diocletian and Maximian) devolved 
to the right of the exchequer, or are seized upon by any city, 
or sold, or have been granted and bestowed upon any one 
as a token of imperial favor, we have decreed that they be 
restored to the ancient tenure and possession of the Chris- 
tians." (Eusebius, Bookviii., chap, xvi.) 

We could not conclude our brief review of this terrible 
persecution of the Church with a more fitting paragraph 
than that which declared the triumph of our faith ; but, as 
the last scene of a tragedy is the most appalling, we have, 
in the terrible judgments of God on the persecutors, a fit 
ending to our tale of horrors, and we claim the indulgence 
of the reader for another moment, while we give one from 
the many proofs of the veracity of the inspired words, " No 
one has raised his hand against God and prospered." 

From the moment that Diocletian had published his first 
edict, his soul became like the hell the demons ever carry 
about with them. Excessive fear and desperation made him 
28 



326 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

insupportable to himself, and to every one who had the mis- 
fortune to be near him. He came to Rome, and was 
hooted by the people, and quitted it by a precipitous flight 
in the middle of winter, within a few days of the great 
games which were to be inaugurated in honor of the ninth 
year of his consulship. On his journey to Ravenna he 
contracted a lingering disease, that gave him excruciating 
pain. His mind was so completely weakened that he be- 
came an imbecile, and at times a perfect lunatic. But the 
climax of his sorrows was his humiliation. He was forced 
by the tyrant Galerius to resign in disgrace the title of Em- 
peror. He was brought to a large field, about three miles 
outside of the city of Nicomedia, and placed on a magnifi- 
cent throne, clothed with the purple, and then, before the 
entire army, and before all the people of the city, he was 
obliged to divest himself of all the insignia of power, and 
transfer them to the tyrant, who sat on another throne near 
him. The old Emperor cried like a child ; at times gnash- 
ing his teeth with impotent rage, and hurling blasphemies 
against the gods he once served so faithfully. He was 
hooted from the field that was the scene of his degradation, 
and fled, almost alone, to Salona, in Dalmatia, the scene 
of his ignoble birth, and died there in obscurity, raving 
mad. 1 

"The other who was next to him in honor," says Euse- 
bius speaking of Maximian, "put an end to his own life 
by hanging himself, agreeably to a certain diabolical pre- 
diction promising him that fate on account of his many and 
most audacious villanies." 

But as Galerius was the chief instigator of the persecution, 
upon him the* judgment fell the heaviest. Lactantius 2 has 
left a description of the horrors by which he was eaten 

1 See De Morte Persecutorum, cap. xvii. 

2 As above, chap, xxxiii. 



THE PERSECUTION OF DIOCLETIAN. $2? 

alive, so hideous as not to bear translation. Suffice it to 
say, he died the death of Herod, the first persecutor of 
Jesus Christ. "These diseases," says Eusebius, "did 
spread incurably, and eat their way into his inmost bowels, 
from which were generated an unspeakable multitude of 
worms, and a most noisome stench proceeded therefrom ; 
for before his disease, the whole mass of flesh upon his body 
(by reason of the abundance of the food he devoured) was 
grown to immense fatness, which, being then putrefied, be- 
came an intolerable and most horrid spectacle to those that 
approached him. Wherefore, some of the physicians, being 
unable to endure the exceeding noisomeness of the smell 
that came from him, were killed. Others of them, when 
they could administer no remedy (the whole fabric of his 
body being swelled, and past all hopes of a recovery), by 
his orders were cruelly slain. ' ' (Book viii. ) Lactantius says 
the stench of his rotten carcass was so terrible as to affect, 
not only the palace, but the whole city. He was kept in 
this state for a whole year, until a horrible death rid the 
world of one of the greatest monsters it had ever seen. It 
was in the midst of those tortures that he issued the edict 
in favor of the Christians, imploring that, in return for this 
boon, they would supplicate their God for his recovery. 
He died on the 15th of May, a. d. 311, just two weeks after 
he signed the recantation of his blasphemous warfare against 
the true God. 




CHAPTER XIX. 

ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 




T the time that Valerian was president, under 
Diocletian and Maximian Emperors, the perse- 
cution raged against the Christians in trie pro- 
vince of Sicily. There was there, at that time, 
a holy boy named Vitus, who performed many miracles, 
and day and night implored the mercy of God, who was 
pleased to give him this reply : 

" I will give you, O Vitus, the mercy you seek." 
His father, named Hylas, was an illustrious but impious 
man. When he tried in vain to induce his son to sacrifice 
to the gods, he ordered him to be beaten with whips, and 
summoning his tutor Modestus, gave him the following 
command : 

" See that this boy no longer speaks the words we have 
heard." 

An angel of the Lord appeared to the little boy, and 
comforting him, said : 

" I have been given to you as a guardian ; I will protect 
you up to the day of your death, and whatsoever you shall 
ask of the Lord will be given to you. ' ' 

But it came to the ears of Valerian the governor that the 
blessed Vitus, the son of the most noble Hylas, worshipped 

328 



ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 329 

and adored the Lord God Jesus Christ. Then the presi- 
dent called the father of this saintly boy, and said to him, 
" What is it I hear of thy son? He worships the God of 
the Christians? If you wish him to be safe you must en- 
deavor to make him remove this folly. ' ' 

2. Having heard this from the president, Hylas then 
called his son, and said, "Most sweet son, listen to the 
advice of your father, and give up the folly of your worship. 
How you have been brought to adore a dead man, I cannot 
tell. If the Prince come to hear it, he will turn on you 
with all the fury of his power ; he will be your ruin and my 
grief." 

The blessed Vitus replied : " Father, didst thou but know 
this God whom thou callest a dead man, thou too wouldst 
adore Him. He is the Lamb of God, who takes away 
the sins of the world. ' ' 

"But, Vitus," said the father, "I know that Christ, whom 
you call God, was flogged by the Jews, and crucified by 
Pilate." 

" He was. But this is a great and wonderful mystery," 
replied the youth. 

3. Hylas was a Pagan and could not understand all the 
child said, yet, with the natural affection of a parent, he 
feared more the consequences involved in the profession of 
Christianity, than the slight offered to the gods of the Em- 
pire. While he was reflecting how he would induce his 
son to give up his faith, Almighty God was working won- 
ders through Vitus. The sick through his prayer were 
cured, the blind received their sight, and the devils whom 
He cast out were forced to publicly declare the merits of 
the saintly youth. The governor Valerian heard of whar 
was passing, and ordered Vitus to be brought before him. 
When he came, Valerian said, " Why do you not sacrifice to 
the immortal gods ? Do you not know that our princes have 

28* 



330 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ordered that any one found worshipping the man called 
Christ should be put to death ? ' ' 

But Vitus, filled with the Holy Ghost, and showing no 
signs of fear — a thing unusual in that tender age — made 
the sign of the cross, and said, " I shall never consent to 
worship demons, or stones, or pieces of wood ; I will 
only serve the living God, who will always protect me. ' ' 

Then his father commenced to weep, and cried out in 
the court, " Oh ! come and weep with me, for my only 
son is going to perish. ' ' 

But Vitus addressed him, saying, " I shall not, if I can 
enter into eternal life." 

Valerian then said, "As thou art of noble birth, and I 
have heretofore enjoyed the friendship of thy father, I 
shall not execute the whole sentence against thee as a sac- 
rilegious wretch, but as thou art an obstinate boy, I must 
have thee corrected : lictors, give him a few strokes with 
your rods." 

4. After they had beaten him some time, the president 
said, " Do you consent now ? " 

The boy replied, "I told you before I will only worship 
Jesus Christ, the true God." 

Then the president ordered the lictors to take out the 
heavier rods, and beat him severely, but the moment they 
approached him the second time, their arms were withered, 
(" Et brachia eorum arefacta sunt.") Valerian's arm suf- 
fered in like manner, and he cried out with a loud voice, 
"Alas ! I have lost my arm, and feel great pain. Hylas, 
it is not a son you have, but a devil of a magician." 

"lam not a magician," said Vitus, "but the servant 
of the Lord, through whom I can do all things." 

" Then cure me," said Valerian, "and I will not call 
thee a magician." 

The blessed Vitus, raising his eyes toward heaven, said, 



ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 33 1 

" O Lord Jesus Christ, son of the omnipotent and true 
God, for the sake of those who stand around, I beseech 
Thee to cure the president's arm, in order that they may 
believe in Thee." And immediately his arm was cured. 

5. Then Valerian handed the boy to his father, and 
told him to take him home, and do' his best to make him 
sacrifice. Hylas did so, and endeavored to change his son 
by kindness and blandishments ; he clothed him in most 
beautiful garments, and by continual feasting and lewd 
dances tried to lead him astray ; but the holy youth closed 
his eyes and ears against all seduction, and prayed to God 
for strength. 

6. Then it came to pass that his father led him into a 
beautiful room, which was instantly filled with a heavenly 
light, and there appeared a number of angels singing round 
the holy youth. All the family and domestics gathered 
near the door. The light was so strong that no one could 
look at it, and Hylas was struck blind. When the music 
had ceased, and the brilliant light disappeared, they found 
he had lost his sight ; he groaned in great pain, and all 
the maids and attendants were in tears. They laid him on 
a couch, and surrounded him, weeping and mourning. 
Valerian, who was his friend, was sent for, and when he 
came, inquired what was the matter, and they told him 
that Hylas had been struck blind. The governor made 
them bring him to the altar of Jupiter, and there Hylas 
promised to sacrifice innumerable victims of fatted oxen 
with gilt horns, if he should be restored to his sight. He 
promised too to dedicate virgins to the goddess Vesta, but 
his eyes remained closed, and he suffered intense pain. 

7. They then led him to his son, and begged on bended 
knees that he would cure him. Vitus asked him if he 
would give up the worship of demons, and believe in the 
true God. Hylas answered in the affirmative, but the holy 



332 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

youth, seeing his thoughts, said, " I understand your reply; 
your heart is hardened ; but for the sake of those present, 
although you are not worthy of it, I will cure you." The 
blessed Vitus prayed, the scales fell from his eyes, and he 
saw. 

Then the father said in a rage, " I thank my gods for 
having cured me, and not your God." From that moment 
he thought to kill his son. 

8. The angel of the Lord appeared to Modestus, the 
tutor of the blessed Vitus, a religious and holy man, and 
told him to take the boy to the sea-shore ; he would find 
a ship waiting, and proceed instantly where he would 
point out. 

But he said, ' ' I know not the way. Whither shall I go ? " 

The angel replied, " I will show you." 

The blessed Vitus was then about seven years of age. 
(" Erat autem B. Vitus circiter annorum septem.") 

The angel led them to the sea-shore, where the Lord 
had prepared a small ship, and assuming the appearance 
of a pilot, the angel said, " Where are you hurrying to, 
good people ? ' ' 

Vitus answered, " Wherever the Lord takes us, we will 
follow promptly and cheerfully. ' ' 

Then the angel said, " Where is your passage-money? " 

To which Vitus replied, " He whom we serve will pay 
you." 

They got into the ship, and the angel took the helm, and 
they came to a place called Alectorius, and as soon as they 
landed the angel disappeared. But they went into the 
country and reached the river Siler, and rested under a 
tree. The Lord performed many miracles through the 
blessed Vitus. Food was given them by a celestial eagle. 
And a multitude of people gathered round him on account 
of the fame of his miracles. The devils cried out through 



ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 333 

many, " What hast thou to do with us? thou hast come 
before the time to destroy us." Vitus spent his time in 
teaching the people, and baptized a great number. His 
constant prayer was, "I have believed, therefore have I 
spoken ; but I have been humbled exceedingly. ' ' (Ps. 
cxv.) And, "As the heart panteth after the fountains of 
waters, so my soul panteth after Thee, O God." (Ps. xlii.) 

9. In the meantime, the son of Diocletian the Emperor 
was tormented by an impure spirit, and the devil cried out 
by his mouth, saying, "Unless Vitus the Lucanian come 
here, I will not leave thee." 

The Emperor said, "And where can I find this man? " 

The demon replied, " He is in the Tanagritan territory, 
near the river Siler. ' ' 

Then Diocletian sent armed soldiers, that they might 
quickly bring the man designated by the demon. 

When they arrived at the place, they found the champion 
of Christ praying to the Lord, and the leader of the soldiers 
said, "Are you Vitus? " 

He answered, " I am." 

Then he said, " The Emperor needs you." 

To which Vitus said, "I am such a worthless, little 
being ; how can he want me?" 

They answered, " His son is tormented by a devil, and 
so asked to have you brought to him. ' ' 

Blessed Vitus said, "Let us go, then, in the name of 
the Lord." 

When he came to Rome, his arrival was announced to 
the Emperor, who ordered him immediately to be brought 
before him. The countenance of blessed Vitus was ex- 
tremely handsome, and shining like fire; his eyes were 
like the rays of the sun, for they were filled with the grace 
of God. Then Diocletian said, "Are you Vitus? " 

But he was silent. 



334 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Then Caesar commenced to interrogate Modestus; but 
he, being old and of a simple nature, did not know how to 
give a suitable reply ; and the Emperor ridiculed him. 

Wherefore blessed Vitus said, " Why do you question the 
old man as if he were still young ? Ought you not rather 
to respect his gray hairs ? ' ' 

Then Diocletian, enraged, said, " How have you such 
presumption that you dare speak so angrily in the face of 
our authority ? ' ' 

Vitus replied, "We are not angry, who have received 
the spirit of simplicity, through the bounty of Christ. We 
should rather imitate the meekness of the dove. Our 
Master, who taught us, is of His own nature good ; He is 
great indeed in power, but modest in simplicity. Where- 
fore, those who wish to be His disciples must be meek 
and humble of heart, and not passionate or boisterous." 

10. Then the demon, by the mouth of the tortured son 
o,f Diocletian, cried out horribly, saying, " O Vitus ! why 
do you cruelly torture me before the time ? ' ' 

To which Vitus replied nothing ; but the Emperor said, 
* ' Vitus, can you cure my son ? ' ' 

The blessed Vitus replied, "Health, indeed, it is possi- 
ble for him to regain, which I cannot give him ; but by me 
Christ, whose servant I am, can, if He wishes, liberate him 
most easily from this impious enemy." And after Diocle- 
tian had besought him, he approached the possessed, and, 
laying his hands on his head, said, " Impure spirit, depart 
from this creature of God, in the name of our Lord Jesus 
Christ ! " And immediately the devil left him, and killed 
a great many infidels. 

Then Diocletian, seeing his son cured, and many of the 
infidels who were mocking at St. Vitus killed, and enrap- 
tured with the beauty of the boy, advised him blandly and 
kindly, saying, " Dearest Vitus, if you will only consent to 



ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 335 

sacrifice to our gods, I will give you the best part of my 
kingdom ; I will load you with immense riches of gold and 
silver, and precious garments, and every kind of costly 
furniture, and I will esteem you as my dearest and most 
intimate friend." 

Vitus replied, " I have no need of thy kingdom, nor of 
thy garments, nor of thy riches; I have my Lord God, 
who will clothe me with the stole of immortality, which 
no darkness can obscure, if I persevere in serving Him 
faithfully." 

Diocletian then said, "Do not act in this way, Vitus, 
but think rather of thy life, and sacrifice to the gods, lest 
thou perish by divers torments." 

To which Vitus replied, "I esteem inestimably those 
torments with which you threaten me ; by them I can gain 
the palm which the Lord has deigned to promise to His 
elect." 

11. Then Diocletian ordered his ministers to cast the 
blessed Vitus, together with Modestus, into a most vile 
prison ; and when they were cast into prison, he ordered 
each of them to be loaded with eighty pounds of iron, and 
the prison to be sealed with his own ring, so that no one 
could enter to give them even adrop of water. But when 
they were shut up, immediately a great light lit up the 
prison, so that the terrified guards looked on with wonder. 
The blessed Vitus cried out with a loud voice, saying, 
"Thou hast inclined to our aid, O Lord; hasten and free 
us from this punishment, as Thou didst free the three chil- 
dren in the burning furnace, and Susanna from the iniquity 
of false witnesses." 

At these words of the saint, an earthquake shook the 
prison, a wonderful light radiated through it, and a delicious 
odor was spread through the inclosure. Our blessed Lord 
appeared to them, saying, "Arise, Vitus; be comforted 
and strong ; behold, I am with you all days." 



33^ THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

And then the vision left them. The iron that bound and 
weighed them down was melted like wax ; there were the 
voices of a multitude of angels, singing with them in the 
prison, and saying, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, 
for He hath visited and wrought the redemption of His 
people." 

The jailers, hearing those things, were almost paralyzed 
with fear, and pan to the Emperor's palace, crying out in a 
loud voice, "O most pious Emperor, help us; the whole 
city is perishing, and the people are destroyed." 

Hearing these sounds, the Emperor was in consternation, 
and said to the jailers, "What is this great misfortune you 
so unseasonably publish ? ' ' 

They answered, "Vitus, whom you ordered us to bind in 
prison, has been surrounded by a dazzling light; an ineffa- 
ble odor fills the cell ; and there is a Man with them (Vitus 
and Modestus) whose countenance no man dare to look on ; 
He spoke with them, and a multitude of young men dressed 
in white sang aloud most joyful praises." 

'12. Then Diocletian, filled with anger, ordered the 
amphitheatre to be prepared, saying, "I will deliver them 
to the wild beasts, and I will see if their Christ can deliver 
them out of my hands." 

And when they had entered the amphitheatre, blessed 
Vitus warned his aged tutor not to be afraid, saying, "Be 
brave, father, and fear not the sword of the devil, for now 
our crown is coming." 

There were at this exhibition more than five thousand 
men, without counting women and children, of whom there 
was a countless number. 

When they stood before Diocletian, he said, "Vitus, 
where do you see yourself? " 

But Vitus, raising his eyes to heaven, replied nothing. 

Diocletian, repeating the question, said, "Where do you 
see yourself, Vitus ? ' ' 



ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 337 

Vitus then replied, " I see myself in the amphitheatre ; 
however, do what you are going to do." 

" Think of your life," said Diocletian, "and sacrifice to 
the great gods." 

Vitus said, " Never may it be well with thee, Satan, thou 
rapacious wolf, thou deceiver of souls ! How great is thy 
audacity to persuade me to do these things, after seeing so 
many wonders ! But I possess Christ, to whom up to this 
time I have sacrificed every thought of my soul, and to 
whom I now sacrifice all that remains of me." 

13. Then unable to contain himself with rage, the Em- 
peror ordered his ministers to prepare the caldron (or oven) 
with lead and pitch. The lictors did as they were ordered, 
and the blessed champion of Christ was put into it. While 
they were putting him in, the Emperor said, " Now I will 
see if thy God can free thee from my hands." 

But Vitus was making the sign of the life-giving cross 
while they were casting him into the oven. The furnace 
glowed like the sea; and immediately an angel appeared, 
who extinguished the heat, while blessed Vitus stood in the 
middle, singing a hymn to the Lord, saying, " Thou who 
hast freed the children of Israel from the land of Egypt, 
and from a tyrannical yoke and an iron furnace, through 
Thy servant Moses, give us mercy, on account of the glory 
of Thy holy name." And calling on the Emperor, he 
said, aloud, "1 thank thee, Diocletian, and thy ministers, 
for preparing such a pleasant bath and towels for me. ' ' 

The whole people burst into exclamations, saying, " Such 
wonders we have never seen ! Verily the God of this infant 
is true and great ! " ("Tanquam mirabilia nunquam vidi- 
mus ; vere enim verus et magnus est Deus infantis hujus ! ") 

Vitus came out of the oven without a stain on his body, 
but his flesh shone like the snow. Returning thanks to God, 
he said, " Thou hast proved me, O Lord, like gold ; Thou 
29 W 



33$ THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

hast tried me with fire, and no iniquity has been found in 
me." Chiding the Emperor, he boldly said, "■ Blush, thou 
devil, with Satan thy father, seeing what wonders the Lord 
works in His servants. ' ' 

14. The Emperor, bursting more and more with rage, 
ordered a lion to be brought in, whose roaring even the 
men could scarcely bear. When he was let loose, the Em- 
peror said, "Do you think your magical arts will prevail 
this time?" 

"Stupid and foolish man ! " cried out Vitus, "do you 
not see that Christ the Lord is with me ? At His words the 
angels will deliver me from every pain and from thy hands. ' ' 

And when the lion came toward him he made over him 
the sign of the cross, and he fell at his feet, and putting 
out his tongue, licked them, ("plantas ejus lingebat") 
Then the blessed Vitus said to Diocletian, "Behold, im- 
pious man, the very animals give honor to God, and you 
do not recognize your Creator ; even if you now believe in 
Him, I will promise you salvation." 

Diocletian said, " Thou mayest believe in Him and all 
thy kind." 

Vitus, smiling, said, " Thou hast said well ; for I and all 
that are like me, that are born of God by faith, in whom I 
have been regenerated, desire a perpetual crown in heaven." 

In that hour about a thousand persons believed in Christ. 
Diocletian said, "Seeing your doings, many of the people 
are beginning to believe in those arts by which you over- 
come fire and the wild beasts." 

Vitus replied, "Fire and beasts are not ruled by arts; 
but because they are creatures they give honor to their 
Creator, my Lord Jesus Christ. But you should be the 
more confounded, because, although a rational creature, 
you are worse than insensible things and irrational brutes. ' ' 

15. Then Diocletian ordered his attendants to have Vitus 



ACTS OF ST. VITUS AND COMPANIONS. 339 

and Modestus, his tutor, and Crescentia, his nurse, who, on 
account of his preaching, believed in Christ, extended on 
the rack. Then Vitus said, " Ridiculous and cowardly you 
show yourself to be when you command a woman to be 
tortured." 

But the saints of God were stretched on the rack so that 
their bones were dislocated and their bowels appeared. In 
this torment the blessed Vitus cried out, "O Lord God, 
save us in Thy name, and in Thy power deliver us ! " 

Immediately there was a great earthquake and terrible 
lightnings ; the temples of the idols fell, and a great many 
people were killed. The Emperor also fled away terrified ; 
and striking his forehead with his hand, cried out in a loud 
voice, " Woe is me ! I have been shamefully conquered by 
a mere child ! ' ' 

An angel descended from heaven and lifted their bodies 
from the rack, and immediately they found themselves trans- 
ported once more to the river Siler, and reposing under a tree. 
Vitus invoked the Lord once more, and said, "O Lord 
Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, complete the desire of 
those who wish to glorify Thy name by sufferings of mar- 
tyrdom ; preserve them, O Lord, by Thy grace from the 
dangers of this world, and bring them to the glory of Thy 
magnificence." And when he had finished his prayer, 
there came a voice from heaven which said to him, " Vitus, 
thy petition has been granted." And immediately their 
holy spirits left their sacred bodies in the appearance of 
snow-white doves, and, accompanied by angels singing in 
joy, they flew towards the distant heavens. 

1 6. For three days a celestial eagle guarded their re- 
mains. On the third day, Florentia, a noble lady, was 
driving by in her chariot on the banks of the river, when 
suddenly the horse became restive and caused her to fall 
into the centre of the stream. She was commencing to 



340 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

sink when St. Vitus appeared to her walking on the water. 
Florentia cried out, with a loud voice, "Save me, if you 
be an angel of God ! ' ' 

To which the blessed Vitus replied, "I am Vitus, sent 
by the Lord, who is the Author and Preserver of human 
life, to save thee, in order that thou mayest bury our 
bodies; and whatsoever thou askest, in the name of the 
Saviour, by our prayers thou wilt obtain." 

Florentia, being saved from the torrent, collected the 
bodies of the saints, and embalmed them with spices, and 
buried them in the same place in which they died, called 
Morianus. 

St. Vitus, together with Modestus and Crescentia, suffered 
on the 1 7th Kalends of July, our Lord Jesus Christ reign- 
ing : to whom is all honor, glory, power, and majesty, 
through all ages. Amen. 





CHAPTER XX. 



THE LAST MARTYR. 







AXENTIUS has been drowned in the Tiber, and 
Constantine has marched in triumph to the capi- 
tal. With a loud voice and by inscriptions he 
made known to all men the standard of salva- 
tion ; he erected an immense cross on the highest part of 
the Capitol, and placed under it this inscription, ' c By this 
salutary sign, the genuine type of fortitude, I have liberated 
and freed your city from the slavish yoke of a tyrant, re- 
storing the Senate and people of Rome to their pristine 
splendor and dignity. " It is the cross that is triumphant 
on the Capitol. Behold, the greatest miracle in the records 
of history ! Rome had seen many wonders in her twenty- 
six centuries of existence, but the scene on the highest of 
her seven hills, on the morning after the battle of the Saxa 
Rubra, was the strangest, while at the same time the "most 
important in the history of her varied career. That which 
was the most abject, the most despised, and the most per- 
secuted thing in the world, becomes in a moment the em- 
blem of triumph, the true type of fortitude, the instrument 
of liberation and redemption to a stricken and trampled 
people ! This was a miracle incomparably greater than the 
vision of the cross given to Constantine. It involved a 
revolution of dynasties, and a change in the hearts of men, 
29 * 341 



34 2 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

that could only come from the right hand of God. Even 
in the limited perceptions of human reasoning, we could 
not imagine another miracle more calculated to convince 
the Pagan world of the divinity of the crucified God, whom 
it endeavored to despise. After centuries of persecution, 
after every opposition that human power or human malice 
could bring against His Church, that Church is now trium- 
phant in the emblem of its immortality, in the cross on the 
Capitol. 

Some of the most inveterate Pagans could scarcely be- 
lieve their senses ; they moved away muttering blasphemies 
against the God whom they still hated, but whose powei 
they were forced to acknowledge : the Christians gathered 
nearer and nearer to the beloved symbol of their hopes ; 
they kissed it and bedewed it with many tears ; they sang 
around it, in loud and cheerful tones, the praises of the 
royal prophet who had foretold its triumph. Far away in 
the distance and down the slopes of the Capitol, retiring 
bands of Christians were heard singing, "Who is like to 
Thee, O Lord, among the gods ? Thou hast been glorified 
in the saints, admirable in glories, doing wonders. ' ' 

But, perhaps, this is an ill-timed congratulation for a 
triumph that is to last but an hour. The Coliseum is not 
yet converted. We have not yet finished its scenes of hor- 
ror, and Christian blood must flow again in its arena. 
The title of our present chapter recalls scenes of blood- 
shed and persecution as violent as any we have recorded. 
Nevertheless, the triumph of Constantine was lasting, com- 
plete, and universal. He was but an instrument in the 
hands of God to effect the perfect establishment of His 
Church. His miraculous escape from the court of Gale- 
rius, his generosity, his prudence and nobility of mind, 
and, above all, his victorious march from Gaul, destroying 
with a handful of men the overwhelming forces of the 



THE LAST MARTYR. 343 

Empire, were all means adopted by God, to place the 
Church in the centre of the world, on a basis that would 
never again be shaken by any storm, to commence her 
visible and external mission among men, and to bring to 
her bosom all the nations of the earth. Immediately after 
the triumph of Constantine, she raised her head with in- 
dependence ; she shook off the appearance of weakness 
which shrouded her infancy, and showed the world that 
her existence and her mission were no longer doubtful, 
trembling, or destructible. In this sense, the triumph of 
Constantine is more glorious, more perfect, and more mani- 
fest to-day than sixteen centuries ago, when Catholicity 
was declared to be the religion of Rome. Although there 
were martyrs after the time of Constantine, and the per- 
secution of Julian revived for an hour the tyranny of 
Paganism, yet these were but the characteristics of the 
Church's union with her crucified Master ; they were 
strokes of correction from the hands of a Father ; they 
were not signs of weakness, but proofs of life and strength. 
She had never again to flee from among men ; her Cata- 
combs are abandoned to the sleeping dead, who await 
resurrection, and the Coliseum will never again be the bat- 
tlefield of her faith. Yet there was another martyrdom 
in the Coliseum. The streams of blood that flowed from 
the veins of perhaps a thousand martyrs of the faith had 
not yet filled up the measure of its iniquity ; there seemed 
to be still wanting some blood of another character; and 
the last flow of the ruddy stream which was to complete 
the dreadful holocaust of human beings sacrificed in this 
mighty amphitheatre, was to be the blood of a martyr of 
charity. Let us come to this last and touching scene, re- 
corded of the martyrs of the Coliseum. 

One of the first acts of Constantine was to condemn by 
public edict those scenes of bloodshed, which were so un- 



344 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

congenial to the spirit of Christianity. This was an im- 
portant event, not only in the history of the Coliseum, but 
in the history of Rome. The people loved these spectacles 
with a species of blind fanaticism. It had frequently hap- 
pened, in the past history of the city, that infuriated mobs, 
breathing violence and fury, and threatening to deluge the 
streets with patrician blood, were calmed by the games of 
the Circus and Coliseum. The popularity of each new 
Emperor depended in a great measure on the character of 
the games with which he entertained his subjects. In the 
midst of war, famine, and public grief, they would pour in 
reckless crowds to the intoxication of the amphitheatre and 
the circus; the more blood to be shed, the greater the 
enthusiasm of the people ; the more impious and cruel the 
games, the greater was supposed to be the piety to the gods ! 
Hence the closing of the Coliseum was a desperate step, 
which at other times would have caused a rebellion that 
would have cost the Emperor his throne. Although all 
the power of Constantine was brought to bear on the fulfil- 
ment of the edict, it was not until nearly a hundred years 
after his death that the last gladiatorial show took place ip 
the Coliseum.f/ 

Christianity was slowly, but surely, sweeping away every 
vestige of Paganism from the city. The elevation of the 
female sex and the expulsion of slavery were leviathan un- 
dertakings that engrossed all her energies for nearly two 
centuries ; when she never ceased to raise her voice against 
this atrocious practice, and Paganism, to mock at the strict 
morality of the Church. Honorius renewed the prohibi- 
tory law of Constantine, but to no purpose. The games 
were no longer maintained by the public purse, but there 
were found senators and nobles rich enough to rival the 
imperial entertainments of other days. The Coliseum had 
no longer its martyrs, but still it had its victims. At length 



THE LAST MARTYR. 345 

the gentle influence of Christianity triumphed ; the un- 
ceasing prayers of the Christians had pierced the clouds 
of heaven ; even this most cherished institution of idolatry 
and infamy must yield to the regenerating spirit of the 
Church, and the Coliseum closed its long career of horror 
and bloodshed by a tragedy as terrible as any we have yet 
recorded, but redounding more to the glory and honor of 
that faith which conquered Rome. A poor monk named 
Telemachus, who had passed his life as a solitary in the 
deserts of the East, was inspired by God with a holy zeal 
to put an end to the profanities of the public spectacles. 
He went to Rome ; he mingled with the spectators in the 
mighty amphitheatre, and the moment the gladiators com- 
menced their murderous struggle, he bounded into the 
arena> cast himself between their weapons, and attempted 
to reprove the assembled thousands for their cruelty and 
impiety. His voice was not heard in the uproar of the 
maddened populace. But where the venerable Ignatius 
and a host of others suffered, the body of this glorious 
martyr to humanity fell beneath the heavy fragments of 
marble seats and ornaments hurled down upon him from 
every bench of the amphitheatre, which seemed crowded 
with so many demons raging for human blood. Terrible 
as was the judgment the people passed on a weak and un- 
armed man for daring to thwart them in their cruel sport, 
yet that poor monk triumphed, for the gladiators he sepa- 
rated never met again ; his sacrifice was accepted above, 
and the Coliseum was converted. The Emperor Honorius 
immediately prohibited all spectacles in the Coliseum, 
under the severest penalties ; and although there was one 
more last and desperate effort made, a few years afterwards, 
to resuscitate the murders and sacrifices of this temple of 
the demons, the blood of Telemachus was triumphant ; the 
inhuman amusement of gladiatorial spectacles was hence- 
forward a stain of the past. 



34-6 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

We cannot but admire the zeal of Telemachus. We love 
to hang over this last tragedy of the Coliseum as one of 
the sublimest and most interesting of the early Church. One 
shudders indeed at the awful fate of the poor monk, but his 
pain was momentary. His sacrifice was the highest degree 
of virtue that man can exercise towards his fellow-man ; and 
now his crown is bright and eternal. His charity was that 
fire which consumes everything. It assumed a heroism of 
self-denial that is beyond nature ; and gave him that shining 
mark by which men were to know he was the follower of 
the Saviour who loved so much. 

Far away in the depths of the Libyan deserts,- he had 
heard the Coliseum of Rome was still reeking with the 
blood of human victims. Perhaps a description of its hor- 
rors was given to him by some fugitive penitent, who had 
learned the emptiness and dangers of the world, and had 
fled to solitude to prepare for eternity. He conceived the 
idea of making a generous effort to destroy this brutal pas- 
sion ; he felt that something should be done, even though 
he should have to leave his desert and shed his own blood 
in the undertaking. Long and fervently did he recom- 
mend the thought to God. In unbroken nights of prayer 
and fearful austerities, in many tears and deep humility, he 
prayed for some token of the divine will. What could he 
do, he thought, a poor ignorant hermit, slow of speech, 
bare-footed, and clothed in coarse sackcloth ? Kings and 
popes and martyrs had failed to eradicate the evil, yet 
would he succeed?' Fearing some delusion of Satan, he 
paused and doubted, but grace urged him on ; an interior 
voice said to him, ' ' I can do all things in Him who com- 
forts me." He penetrated deeper into the trackless wilds 
of the desert to consult an old and experienced anchoret, 
who was a disciple of the great Paul, the first to sanctify 
those homeless regions. The aged monk told him to go, 
for God had accepted his sacrifice. 



THE LAST MARTYR. 347 

At length he seizes his staff, and, with many tears, bids 
farewell to his beloved cell, his rude cross, and the little 
stream whose constant murmurs joined him in the praises of 
God. The desert was a home of delights, but the world 
before him was dark and gloomy. No soldier ever moved 
with braver step to the battlefield than Telemachus to his 
combat with the proud passions of men. He moves on 
through crowded cities, through cultivated plains and wild 
mountain passes — he seeks no roof but the open canopy 
of heaven ; the stone in the desert has been the only pillow 
he has used for years past. After a journey of weeks and 
months, and perhaps years, at length, wearied, foot-sore, 
but delighted, he arrived under the walls of the Eternal 
City. The brilliant sun of heaven was reflected from the 
glittering domes of the imperial metropolis of the world. 
The eyes of the poor monk were dazzled with temples cov- 
ered with silver and gold, and interminable vistas of marble 
columns around palaces and theatres which were raised on 
every side with a magnificence and splendor such as fancy 
would paint for the cities in the land of dreams. He enters 
the city, and moves through its crowded streets unconscious 
of the universal gaze of the people, who are attracted by 
his extraordinary dress. Some laugh, others insult him, 
all despise the poor monk, whom angels are leading to a 
sublime destiny. 

So far as we can learn, it was on the morning of the ist 
of January, a. d. 404, that Telemachus entered Rome. The 
games usually celebrated during the Kalends of January were 
inaugurated at the expense of a rich senator ; and although 
far inferior in magnificence, they exceeded in brutality the 
spectacles of the golden age. Telemachus moved with the 
crowd toward the amphitheatre. When he mounted the 
Capitol, with its fifty temples still smoking with the sacrifices 
of abomination, he shuddered, for he knew the demons had 



348 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

still possession of that part of the city. What were the 
emotions of his heart when another moment brought the 
mighty amphitheatre full into his view ? It rose in the val- 
ley beneath the Capitol with stupendous majesty, towering 
over the temples and arches that lined the Forum — im- 
mense, like the pyramids he had seen in his passage through 
Egypt, more beautiful than anything that had yet met his 
gaze in that city of wonders, and raised in the air higher 
than the surrounding hills, with a solidity that would seem 
to defy decay or the ravages of time. He descended the 
Way of Triumph, unconscious that he himself was walking 
to a triumph — one of the greatest the world ever saw. He 
passed under the arches where noble martyrs had been often 
dragged to be exposed to the wild beasts ; and a cold feel- 
ing of horror passed over him as he looked for the first time 
at the blood-stained arena, whose horrors had haunted his 
dreams, whose conversion was the unceasing petition of 
his prayer. It was yet early in the day, and the games had 
not yet commenced; the people were pouring into the 
benches ; he took a seat, and heedless of the buzz of a 
thousand voices around him, in a few moments became 
rapt in communion with God, as if he were praying on the 
banks of his little stream in the desert. 

Rapt in prayer, with his hands folded on his breast, he 
seemed to the Romans like a vision from the other world. 
His dress and strange appearance, the halo of sanctity 
which was suffused around the true servant of God, and 
which never can be concealed, made the gathering crowd 
gaze on him with mingled sentiments of contempt, surprise, 
and reverence. Who or what is he ? was asked by each 
wondering stranger as he suddenly stopped short to gaze on 
the extraordinary apparition that sat motionless on one of 
the benches. Some thought he was a poor fool, and was 
not to be minded ; others said he was some truant slave 



THE LAST MARTYR. 349 

from the East; others again, that perhaps he was a messenger 
from the oracles, for those important persons were generally 
clothed fantastically, and wrapt in mystery and gloom. 
But another moment will show them that he indeed is a 
messenger from the oracles of Eternal Wisdom, to teach 
the world the great truths uttered in the revelations of the 
gospel. 

The games have commenced. Like Alipius, he is roused 
from his reverie by the inhuman shout that hails the first 
batch of combatants. Four naked, stout, and fierce-look- 
ing men have bounded into the arena ; they feign cheerful 
looks, and each one is certain of being victorious. They 
march around the arena according to the old custom of the 
games, that the people may select their favorites to bet on 
them and anticipate their victory. As they pass around, 
some take their last farewell by a long steady gaze and a 
kiss of the hand to some friend in the upper benches. In 
spite of their efforts to smile bravely on death, their coun- 
tenances bear the pallid stamp of desperation, and nature be- 
trays her fear of dissolution ; it was a blind fury that made 
them hasten to the combat, not what the Romans call 
bravery. Now they are measuring swords and are matched 
by the prefect of the games ; they pass a few moments in 
playful fencing with wooden swords ; then come the glitter- 
ing steel blades, burnished and brightened for the deadly 
struggle ; they seize them, and in another moment the game 
of bloodshed has commenced. But see ! the monk has 
risen ; he flies through the benches ; he leaps over the iron 
rail of the podium, and with a giant hand seizes the com- 
batants and whirls them round him. 

No pen could describe the scene that followed. The 

people were like a lion deprived of his prey by an inferior 

animal. Never did the old walls of the amphitheatre ring 

with a louder or wilder scream of frenzy ; at the very mo- 

30 



350 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

ment their excitement was becoming intense, they were 
thwarted by this daring stranger, and their indignation was 
roused to fury. We should give but a faint idea of the feel- 
ings of the mob when Telemachus appeared in the arena to 
stop the gladiators, if we imagined a capuchin monk, 
clothed in the sackcloth and cord of St. Francis, rushing 
on the stage of the Alhambra in London to reprove the in- 
decent levities of its ballets. The gladiators were thunder- 
struck, and stood in terror as if in the presence of a super- 
natural being. The holy monk endeavored to address the 
people, but they hissed, and hooted, and screamed with 
fiendish rage ; and at length, as if unable to control them- 
selves any longer, they tore up the seats and benches, and 
in a few minutes the air became filled with a shower of 
broken fragments of seats and pavements hurled from every 
side of the amphitheatre on the head of Telemachus. He 
knelt, and stretching his arms toward heaven, offered his 
life for the conversion of this great theatre of infamy. The 
martyr of charity fell, and covered in his fall one of the 
darkest stains on the arena of the amphitheatre. Chris- 
tianity, in the noble self-sacrifice of one man, expiated the 
crimes of three hundred years, and raised the moral and 
rational character of the human species over the brutal 
passions that degraded it. 

The excitement of the people increased, and spread like 
fire through every bench. Some fled in terror and sent 
alarming rumors through the city ; the people flocked in 
additional thousands to the amphitheatre, and increased the 
noise and confusion. The prefect ordered the trumpets to 
be sounded, and sent for the gladiators to resume the com- 
bats, but in vain ; a decree was written in heaven which no 
human power could change. At length the military were 
ordered to disperse the crowd, and the sports of the day 
were declared to be terminated. 



THE LAST MAR TYR. 3 5 1 

It must have appeared strange to the Romans that the 
death of one man could have produced such an unexpected 
result. The wonder increased when they heard that the 
murdered man was poor, a stranger, and a hated Christian. 
Human life was of so little value in those days, that poor 
slaves were often put to death by tyrant masters and mis- 
tresses for some accidental injury offered to a pet dog or 
cat. In the Coliseum especially, where it was not unusual 
to see a hundred gladiators fall in one day, death may be 
said to have been the most common spectacle witnessed in 
its arena. Yet the death of this poor monk not only sepa- 
rated the gladiators in their murderous attack on each other, 
and caused the crowd of cruel spectators to be dispersed 
into the streets, but it wrung from the supreme power of the 
Empire a definite and inviolable prohibition of this inhuman 
sport. So triumphant, so perfect was the success of the 
mission of Telemachus, that, not only in the Coliseum, but 
in all the amphitheatres throughout the Empire, the sword 
of the gladiator was broken in pieces, and the degrading 
profession of being a skilful murderer was forever annihi- 
lated. This is but one of the many facts recorded in his- 
tory which show how the Catholic Church regenerated the 
world. The agents of Divine Providence have been little 
and despicable, but their works have been miraculous, and 
eternal in their influence on the destinies of man. 








CHAPTER XXI. 

TELEMACHUS STILL TRIUMPHANT. 



IVE years after the tragedy we have described in 
the last chapter, the Coliseum witnessed another 
scene equally strange and thrilling. Not that 
there were any more martyrs to shed their blood 
in its sanctified arena, but every page in the history of this 
great ruin is a scene of horror. The powers of darkness 
made a desperate effort to restore the reign of terror in the 
Coliseum. For a moment they seemed to succeed; the 
blinded populace shouted with joy, and the slave was armed 
again with the sword of the gladiator. But He who ac- 
cepted the sacrifice of Telemachus knew well how to thwart 
the designs of the impious, and, at the time in which 
it pleased Him, He scattered them like chaff before the 
wind. It was not without a dreadful struggle that the Ro- 
mans gave up the fascinating bloodshed of their amphi- 
theatre, and their last effort to restore its terrible spectacle 
was surrounded with horror and confusion that gives a 
thrilling finale to our chapter of blood. We give a scene 1 
from one of the most tremendous judgments of God in the 
history of man — the commencement of His greatest 
mercy ! 
The hour of retaliation had at length dawned on Rome, 

352 



TELEMACHUS STILL TRIUMPHANT. 353 

— that hour long set apart in the decrees of Providence for 
a fearful vindication of this unconverted city. The Goths 
and barbarian tribes from the north-east of the Empire 
were led on by Alaric to its plunder. These rough, un- 
couth tribes had been treasuring up in their traditions every 
defeat and every injustice they had suffered from the Roman 
arms. Long had their chiefs, like the prophets of old, ut- 
tered their prophetic woes against this proud queen of the 
universe. Revenge was their god, and the plunder of 
Rome was the elysium of their delights. When the hour 
came they were let loose by Almighty God, and five or six 
hundred thousand of the most brutal soldiers poured down 
toward the ill-fated city, and before the Romans knew their 
danger, Alaric had made his way through the beautiful 
plains of Italy, and the wreck of cities and smoking ruins 
were the traces of his victorious march. 

The Romans were indulging in every excess, and thought 
of nothing but the amusements of the Circus and Coliseum. 
Their apathy and blindness to the terrible ruin which 
threatened them was the first sign of the fate that decreed 
their fall. The haughty Senate and patricians pretended to 
smile at the audacity of a barbarian king coming to attack 
their city. They looked at their arches of triumph, the 
trophies of victory beyond number that met their gaze on 
every side, the temples of so many gods, and of heroes 
and emperors deified for their deeds in arms ; and with 
complacent pride they scorned the idea of their becoming 
a prey to a barbarian. How should she tremble, amid so 
many pledges of dominion, whose walls, cemented with 
the gore of so many captive victims, were sufficiently 
guarded by the terrors of the Roman name, and by the 
dreadful shades of so many conquerors ? But their ar- 
rogance was soon humbled by misfortune. While they 
were yet reclining in their tricliniums, the bands of Alaric, 
30* X 



354 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

impatient for the moment of assault, came bursting through 
the marble halls, and pleasure-grounds of her suburban vil- 
las, and rushed and thundered onward over every opposi- 
tion until they broke like a deluge of blood and confusion 
against her gates. 

By a skilful disposition of his troops, Alaric encom- 
passed the walls, commanded the twelve principal gates, 
intercepted all communication with the adjoining country, 
and diligently guarded the navigation of the Tiber, upon 
which Rome depended for the sustenance of her innumer- 
able population. The doomed city gradually experienced 
the distress of scarcity, and at length the horrid calamities 
of famine. The hour of revenge had commenced its hor- 
rors on the ill-fated city. The people began to die in 
hundreds through hunger, and as the public sepulchres 
were outside the walls, and in the possession of the enemy, 
the stench that arose from so many putrid and unburied 
carcasses infected the air, and the miseries of famine were 
soon aggravated by those of pestilence. 

It was in this extremity that a deputation was sent from 
the Senate to the Gothic camp to sue for terms. When 
the members of the deputation were introduced to the tent 
of Alaric, they maintained a haughty bearing, to make it 
appear they were equally prepared for war or peace. They 
said, if the king of the Goths refused to sign a fair and 
honorable capitulation, he might sound his trumpets, and 
prepare to give battle to an innumerable people, inured to 
arms, and animated by despair. "The thicker the grass, 
the easier it is mowed," was the reply with which the bar- 
barian mocked them, to the great amusement of his officers, 
who burst into loud and insulting laughter at this stroke of 
rustic wit. He then dictated the terms on which alone 
they might expect to have the city spared : The surrender 
into his hands of all the gold and silver within the walls 






TELEMACHUS STILL TRIUMPHANT. 355 

of Rome, whether it belonged to the state or individuals ; 
all the rich and precious movables, and all the barbarians 
detained as slaves. 

"If such, O king," said one of the ambassadors, "are 
the things you must have from us, may we ask what it is 
you intend to leave us ? " 

" Your lives," replied the haughty conqueror. 

There being no longer any human hope, it was resolved 
by the Romans to resort once more to the aid of the im- 
mortal gods. It was alleged by some that the city of 
Narmi had been recently saved from the Goths by certain 
mystic rites and sacrifices of the Etruscans, who were then 
in Rome ; and these same execrable practices, consisting 
in dark incantations by the gore of murdered captives, 
were solemnly performed by public edict from the Capitol. 
It was in vain that the Christian senators exclaimed against 
this horrible impiety ; their voices were drowned in enthu- 
siastic exclamations for the restoration of Pagan rites, and 
in execrations and blasphemies of Christ. It is related by 
Sozomen, that the most reflecting of the Romans looked 
upon the calamities of the city as a just judgment on its 
incorrigible attachment to idolatry. But the lightnings of 
Jupiter were not hurled on the tents of the Goths; the 
horrors of famine and pestilence increased, and the humbled 
Senate was forced to send another embassy to the enemy, 
to even beg for mercy. A temporary respite was purchased 
by the doomed city ; but she is weighed in the balance, 
and destined to fall. Alaric retired for the winter to the 
fair and fruitful regions of Tuscany, enriched by the wealth 
of the capital, and reinforced by forty thousand slaves, 
who broke their chains, and joined the barbarian camp, in 
the hope of one day revenging the cruelties practised on 
them during their servitude. They had that revenge a few 
months afterwards ; it was stern and terrible. 



356 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

The conditions of capitulation were not kept, and Alaric 
came with a portion of his troops to terrify them into com- 
pliance with their promise, or in reality to sack the city, 
for which he thirsted, in spite of all these compromises 
and delays. On the occasion of his second investment of, 
the city, the Pagan Attalus was made Emperor at the dic- 
tation of Alaric. This man was raised to the purple for 
the sole purpose of being degraded, and that the imperial 
dignity itself might be disgraced and exposed to derision. 
A few weeks afterwards, the purple was ignominiously torn 
from his back, and himself and his courtiers made slaves 
to the barbarian king. Nevertheless, during his brief career 
he did all he could to introduce the horrid superstitions of 
Paganism. The smoke of impure sacrifices once more 
rose up from the city. The cruel sports of the Circus and 
the Coliseum were commenced again in honor of the im- 
mortal gods. The scene that passed in the Coliseum on 
this occasion is one among the strange reminiscences of 
this venerable pile. It is to introduce it to the reader that 
we have related the historical facts of the preceding pages. 

From the death of the monk Telemachus, the Coliseum 
had been silent. The gladiatorial profession was pro- 
scribed; and through the horrors of the famine every animal 
in the city was slain. Yet the new Emperor must celebrate 
his accession to the crown by the games of the Circus and 
Coliseum. The people still clung with blind fanaticism to 
the institutions of the past; they believed the gods de- 
lighted in scenes of bloodshed and horror more than them- 
selves, and to appease the imaginary tyrants that were sup- 
posed to sway the destinies of the Empire, the dried-up 
arena must flow again with the purple stream of human 
blood. Hence, some thousands of dying slaves were 
pushed into the arena to fight with each ' other for their 
lives. The plague and famine were raging around, and 



TELEMACHUS STILL TRIUMPHANT. 357 

people were dropping dead in the streets ; nevertheless, the 
benches of the Coliseum were filled with famishing myriads, 
who came to gaze in wild frenzy on the horrible spectacle of 
its arena. When Attalus and his Pagan officers appeared 
in the royal tribune, he was not saluted with salves or vows 
for a long and protracted reign, but with the hideous clam- 
or of the people demanding to have a price put on the 
heads of the slaves who were about to be slain. But 
Almighty God did not permit the impiety to succeed. 
The wretched slaves would have allowed themselves to be 
slain like sheep, but they were so prostrate through hunger 
and sickness, that they were not able to raise their arms 
against each other ; they would have willingly submitted 
to their fate, for death would have been a welcome release 
from their miseries. They called on the lictors to come 
and dispatch them ; they raised their hands toward their 
masters to kill them or give them food. The scene was 
one of the most terrible of all the horrors witnessed in 
this temple of the Furies. A starving mob poured into its 
marble benches to enjoy the cruel sport of a gladiatorial 
butchery, and then to feast on the flesh of its victims. 
The air was rent with blasphemies against every god from 
Jupiter to Diocletian. The demons who revel in the 
miseries of mankind were present in countless legions, and 
consequently louder, and more terrible than every other 
sound, were the blasphemies against the sacred name of 
Christ. The slaves wept and moaned and screamed, and 
the mob howled louder and louder for food. The mock 
Emperor fled in terror ; the crowds were dispersed without 
the feast of human blood ; and in fear and confusion, amid 
shouts of pain and despair, mingled with the most horrible 
blasphemies ever uttered by man, the Roman populace took 
their adieu of their beloved gladiatorial shows. 



358 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

2. 

But the horrors of this terrible day were but the com- 
mencement of a darker night of woe. The impieties, the 
impious blasphemies of the brief reign of Attalus, hastened 
the calamities that were hanging over the ill-fated city. 
Almost at the same moment when the Pagan faction of the 
Roman people were endeavoring to re-establish the bloody 
scenes of the Coliseum, Alaric announced to his barbarians, 
who were wintering in the north, that they would march on 
the morrow for the long wished-for sack of Rome. The 
news was received with shouts of joy ; the Dacian gladiator, 
is not to die unavenged, for Alaric had said before Byron : 

" Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire." 

The first scene in the awful drama of the degradation of 
Rome was the mockery of its king. The barbarian chief 
ordered Attalus to meet him on his march. The proud 
representative of the Caesars had no alternative but prompt 
obedience. Attalus came up to the Gothic host on a plain 
near Rimini, and not far from the spot where the first of 
the Caesars crossed the Rubicon and commenced the great 
dynasty which Attalus was to close. Here he was igno- 
miniously stript of purple and diadem before an immense 
concourse of Romans and barbarians, and the would-be 
Emperor of the world was told he might enjoy life as a 
slave in the service of the Gothic chief. When these in- 
dignities were completed, the order to resume the march 
was received with savage exultation, mingled with peals of 
laughter at the mock majesty and sudden downfall of the 
Roman Emperor. Alaric and his armed bands are now in 
the hands of Heaven for a terrible vindication of the in- 
sulted majesty of that God whose sacred name in humanity 
was at that very hour blasphemed within the walls of Rome. 



TELEMACHUS STILL TRIUMPHANT. 359 

On his march, when passing a narrow defile in the Apen- 
nines, a holy hermit threw himself before him to intercede 
for the doomed city. "Servant of Heaven," cried Alaric, 
"seek not to turn me from my mission. It is not from 
choice I lead my army against that devoted place ; but some 
invisible power that will not suffer me to halt for a single 
day urges me on by violence, continually crying out to me 
without ceasing, ' Forward ! march upon that city — upon 
Rome, and make it desolate ! ' " 

At the hour of midnight, the Salarian gate was silently 
opened, and the Romans were suddenly awakened by the 
tremendous sound of the Gothic trumpets. Thus was the 
mystical Babylon, like its prophetic type, the city of Bel- 
shazzar, surprised in the midst of its security. The Ro- 
mans had such confidence in their lofty rock-built walls, 
that, like the Babylonians when the Persians surrounded 
their city, they indulged in their accustomed revels, and 
then retired to their beds without even the slightest shadow 
of apprehension. Procopius says the senators were fast 
asleep when the Goths were entering the gates. 

"The cruelties exercised on this occasion,' ' says the 
Italian annalist, "cannot be related without shedding 
tears. The city, constructed as it were of the spoils, and 
overflowing with the tribute of so many nations, was now at 
the mercy of the infuriated barbarians. They were lighted 
on their way by flaming palaces and temples, from the villa 
of Sallust — a perfect sanctuary and garden of Epicurus — 
on to the Suburra, the Forum, the Capitol, and above all, 
to the golden house of Nero. They were guided in their 
pursuit of plunder and blood by the forty thousand fugi- 
tives, who labored, during that night of horrors, with more 
assiduity than ever they had shown under their taskmasters' 
stripes, to requite the offices they had received at Roman 
hands, and to wash out in patrician gore the hateful vestiges 



360 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

of their chains. The unutterable barbarities which Rome 
had so often perpetrated during the sieges and massacres 
and burnings of a thousand years, were now retaliated 
rigorously on herself. Her nobles were subjected to tor- 
tures the most cruel and ignominious, to wring from them 
their hidden treasures ; the plebeians were mowed down in 
such multitudes that the survivors did not suffice to bury 
the dead. The Forum, the Circus, and the Coliseum, the 
Capitol, the streets, the theatres, the baths and temples, ran 
with blood. The palace halls and chambers were scenes 
of the most brutal debauchery, immorality, and murder. 
The seven-hilled city was in flames ; the trophies and monu- 
ments in which the lords of the earth most prided them- 
selves were the chief objects of Gothic rage ; and Orosius 
relates that it was said by eye-witnesses of these terrors, 
that the trophies, temples, and other public edifices, that 
defied by their solidity the brands of the barbarians, were 
struck with thunderbolts from heaven. 

But the Almighty, while punishing with so terrible a 
chastisement the obstinate remains of Paganism in Rome, 
caused His mercy to shine forth at the same time with His 
justice. He preserved the Christians by a miraculous inter- 
position of His providence. He inspired the barbarians 
with a respect and reverence for the unoffending members 
of His Church, so that in the midst of all the horrors and 
confusion of the sack of the city, they were led by the bar- 
barians themselves to places of security. The Coliseum was 
a witness to this miracle. It happened thus : 

It was proclaimed by the king of the Goths that he warred 
not against St. Peter. He ordered the churches and places 
consecrated to Christian purposes to be respected ; appointed 
the two great Basilicas of the Apostles as inviolable sanctu- 
aries of refuge ; and so strictly was this order observed, that 
the soldiers not only halted in their career of slaughter on 



TELEMACHUS SI ILL TRIUMPHANT. 36 1 

arriving at these hallowed precincts, but many of them con- 
ducted thither such as moved them to pity, that, under the 
protection of the Apostles, they might be saved from the 
rage of those who might not be found equally compas- 
sionate. As the barbarians were rushing in every direction 
through the city in quest of blunder, it happened that a 
holy virgin, who had grown old in the divine service to 
which she had consecrated her whole life, was discovered 
in her convent by a Gothic chief, who demanded all the 
gold and silver in her possession. She replied with Chris- 
tian composure, that the treasures in her keeping were 
immense ; but while the Goth stood in admiration and 
astonishment, gazing at the splendid hoard of massive gold 
and silver vessels which she revealed, the virgin of Christ 
observed, "Before you are the sacred vessels used in the 
divine mysteries at the altar of St. Peter the Apostle ; pre- 
sume to touch them if you be so minded ; but mark ! the 
consequences of your sacrilege shall be on your own head ; 
as for me, too feeble to defend them, I shall not vainly 
attempt resistance. ' ' 

Struck with reverence and religious awe, and not a little 
moved by the holy enthusiasm of the nun, the chief, with- 
out attempting to lay his hand upon the sacred treasure, 
sent word of what had happened to King Alaric. An in- 
stant and peremptory order was returned to have all the 
vessels promptly conveyed to the Basilica of the Apostle, 
and to guard and protect the nun and all the other Christians 
who should chance to join the procession. The convent 
was situated on the Ccelian Hill (probably near the Lateran), 
so that the entire city was to be traversed in order to reach 
St. Peter's. It was then that an astounding spectacle pre- 
sented itself to the eyes of all. Through the greatest thor- 
oughfares of the city, and amid all the horrors of that night, 
a solemn train is seen advancing, with the same order and 
31 ' 



362 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

measured step as if it moved not through scenes of slaughter, 
violence, and conflagration, but through hallowed aisles 
on some joyous festival. A martial retinue of the Goths 
marches as a guard of honor, to adorn the triumph with 
their glittering arms, and to defend their devout companions 
who bear the sacred vessels of massive gold and silver aloft 
on their heads. The voices of the barbarians are united 
with those of the Romans to swell the hymns of Christian 
praise; and these sounds are heard like the trumpet of 
salvation, re-echoing far and wide through the destruction 
of the city. The Christians start in their hiding-places as 
they recognize the celestial canticles, and crowd from every 
direction to follow the vessels of St. Peter. Multitudes of 
the Pagans themselves, joining loudly in the hymn of 
Christ, take part in the procession, and thus escape under 
the shadow of the sacred name, that they may live to assail 
it with greater violence than ever. 

We mentioned that the Coliseum was a witness to this 
wonderful procession. It passed under its very arches, and 
the mighty womb of its interior echoed for the first time the 
Christian song of praise. Some hundreds of frightened and 
despairing wretches had taken shelter in its long corridors 
and dark arches ; they knew it was impervious to the fire- 
brands of the enemy, and no human arm could shake its 
massive travertine. There were some Christians among 
them \ and no sooner did they hear the well-known tones 
of the Psalms of David, than they rushed from their hiding- 
places in wonder, to join the bands of the children of Israel, 
led by a supernatural interposition from the woes that were 
increasing around them. Joined by the fugitives from every 
side, the pageant seems interminable ; and in proportion 
as it is lengthened by new accessions, the barbarians vie 
with each other for the privilege of marching as .guards on 
either side, armed with their battle-axes and naked swords. 



TELEMACHUS STILL TRIUMPHANT. 363 

Thus it was that Heaven displayed its power to conduct 
the objects of its solicitude, through the very midst of 
despair and death, to a harbor of safety. The city was, as 
it were, sifted of the Christians that still remained in it, by 
means of this procession. In the very crisis of ruin they 
were separated and saved from the common havoc by the 
intervention of angels. But the most astounding feature of 
the miracle was the sudden transition of the Goths from the 
fury to mildness. They abandoned the pursuit of plunder, 
and wielded their reeking weapons to protect the lives and 
treasures of their vanquished enemies. 






CHAPTER XXII. 

THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 

LTHOUGH the dynasty of Romulus and Au- 
gustus had closed," says the author of Rome as 
she Was and as she Became, "the genius of 
Paganism had not yet expired. Surviving the 
enormous empire it had so long animated with unearthly 
vigor and invested with majesty so terrible, this direful spirit 
sat brooding yet among the ruins of the Seven Hills. Its 
retrospects were not those of repentance, but of desperation ; 
its anti- Christian feeling was, if possible, more malignant 
than in the days when a Nero or a Julian officiated as its 
pontiffs. Its only solace was to lay the odium of all the 
calamities of the world at the door of Christianity; to 
mutter curses against it, and to defend with might and 
main every surviving vestige of superstition." 

The spirit of Paganism still lingered within the walls of 
the amphitheatre. It had no longer its martyrs and gladi- 
ators, but yet there was many a noble victim to its cruel 
and bloody sport. The combats of men with beasts were 
not forbidden by law, and were continued for nearly an- 
other hundred years. This species of amusement was sanc- 
tioned by Honorius and Theodosius, who both regulated 
the laws concerning the hunting of wild beasts, in order that 
certain countries might be reserves, in which the imperial 

364 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 365 

ministers could alone hunt to procure wild beasts for the 
games of the Circus and the Coliseum. 

No sooner had the Goths passed away, loaded with the 
spoils of the city, than the Romans who had escaped the 
horrors of the siege, and had secreted themselves in the 
hills of Alba Longa, on the mountains of Tibur, returned 
to the city. "It is not to mourn over tombs," says the 
author just quoted, " or to supplicate around altars, but to 
hasten to their beloved Circus, that the fugitives pour back 
like the tide to a strand deformed with wrecks. There they 
vociferate that all they require are spectacles, and daily ra- 
tions as of old, to indemnify them for the visit of the Goths. 
The crowds that had so lately fled before the swords of the 
barbarians were soon recalled by the hopes of plenty and 
pleasure. The Queen of the Seven Hills replaced her crown 
of laurel, and haughtily readjusted it as if it had only been 
slightly ruffled by the storms of war." 

Cassiodorus, who flourished in the first twenty years of 
the sixth century as secretary to King Theodoric, tells us, 
in the fifth book of his Varieties, that these games with the 
beasts, which he calls detestable, not only existed in his 
time, but there was a kind of necessity for maintaining 
them to gratify the depraved tastes of the people. The 
days of their greatness are past, and that indomitable spirit, 
that was only fanned into irresistible fury by a slight defeat, 
was crumbled to dust like the trophies of its past victories. 
The Goths have quietly moved away with their spoils, and 
no sword is raised to avenge the insult 3 no veteran bands 
are rallied under the victorious eagle to chase the bar- 
barians to their mountain homes, or to avenge the ruin they 
had wrought on the Imperial city. There was a time when 
Rome alone would have annihilated forever the very name 
of the barbarian race that should dare to cross the distant- 
frontier of the empire. But that day is gone ; the martial 
3i* 



366 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

spirit of the people has fled, and the hour of judgment has 
come ; the greatest glory and skill in arms that is now ap- 
plauded by this fallen people, is the triumph of the bestia- 
ries in the arena of the Coliseum. 

The last reference we find made to these games is in the 
Chronicle of Senator. He relates, that, about the year 519 
of Christ, when Cilica Generus was elected consul, he 
celebrated his nomination by great games in the amphi- 
theatre. He caused an immense quantity of wild beasts to 
be brought with great expense from Africa, and they were 
all slain in a few days in that arena, not yet surfeited with 
the blood of perhaps millions of victims. After this, Rome 
passed through two centuries of misfortune and woe ; the 
wails of grief and anguish from the starving and dying 
multitudes were not broken for a moment by the wild shout 
from the Circus or the Coliseum. Under the repeated 
sieges of the Goths, and the last terrible devastation under 
Attila, the city became a ruin around the gigantic amphi- 
theatre, which seemed to raise its indestructible walls higher 
and more majestically over the ruins of fallen palaces and 
temples that strewed the plain around it. At the com- 
mencement of the seventh century, when the sunshine of 
peace in the new dynasty of the papacy commenced to 
dawn on the ill-fated city, the Coliseum, although aban- 
doned, stood alone, amid a wilderness of desolation, " a 
noble monument of ruinous perfection." 

Rich and luxuriant was the grass that grew in its aban- 
doned arena ; the seeds of flowers and weeds, that floated 
on the gentle zephyrs, were arrested in their flight by this 
mountain of masonry, and soon its bleak walls were deco- 
rated with a thousand blossoms. The wild winter wind 
howled through its long dark vomitories with ghostly 
echoes, and the still more solemn scream of the bird of 
solitude rung loud and shrill from the nests amid the crum- 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 367 

bling supports of the mighty velarium. Those walls, that so 
often shook with the thunders of a hundred thousand voices, 
were shrouded with the silence of death ; no human sound 
broke the dreadful stillness, save the cautious step of some 
truant school-boy hiding in its corridors, or the exclama- 
tions of delight from some wondering antiquary pausing 
to admire its marvels of science and art, or perhaps the 
gentle murmur of prayer breathed by the kneeling pilgrim 
in the blood-stained battle-field of the Church's martyrs. 
Among the pilgrims to this sacred spot were bishops and 
cardinals, and the great Pope Gregory, in whose hands the 
clay of the arena turned into blood. Here, too, came, in 
the same century, the Patriarch of the western monks, under 
the cowl he had adopted as the helmet of the spiritual 
legions who were to fight under the papal king against the 
powers of darkness. It was one of Benedict's disciples 
that broke the silence of history in those centuries, when 
he visited this greatest monument of the past, in his pil- 
grimage to the eternal city. A stronger or more beautiful 
panegyric of the great amphitheatre could scarcely be 
penned, than the sublime prophecy uttered by Venerable 
Bede toward the end of the seventh century : 

" While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand ; 
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall ; 
And when Rome falls, the world shall fall." 

Some doubt is expressed by modern historians as to the 
precise time when the immense fabric commenced to crum- 
ble to decay. Many suppose it must have suffered, like 
most of the great buildings of the city, during the Gothic 
reign of terror and ruin j but from the expressions of con- 
temporary writers, Marangoni and other antiquaries are 
of opinion, that it remained in a perfect state up to the 
end of the eleventh century. The immensity and massive 



368 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

denseness of its travertine walls seem to have defied all 
efforts to level it ; even in its present ruinous state, while 
only two-thirds of the original structure exist, it would 
take a thousand men several months to make it even aheap 
of rubbish. The Goths, who found easier prey in the minor 
buildings of the city, left this splendid monument to moulder 
under the slow but certain ruin of time. But the political 
commotions of the latter part of the eleventh century drew 
around the amphitheatre another terrible wave of devasta- 
tion and ruin, in which its massive and imperishable walls 
were shaken and disfigured. This happened in the pontifi- 
cate of St. Gregory VII., about the year of our Lord 1084. 
Gregory, who was known in his earlier career as the 
deacon Hildebrand, was a poor austere monk raised by 
Almighty God to the chair of Peter, in order that, by his 
sanctity and prudence, he might stem the progress of sinful 
abuses which were creeping into the very sanctuary of the 
Church. At the time of his election, the whole German 
Empire groaned under the tyranny and curse of a bad and 
immoral king. A greater contrast could not be conceived 
than the dissolute morals of Henry IV. and the blame- 
less life of the austere monk whom he was permitted to 
confirm as the successor of Peter. The terrible strife be- 
tween virtue and vice which characterizes the reign of 
Gregory VII. was foreshadowed in the letter which the 
newly elected Pope sent to this impious king, to persuade 
him to prevent his nomination; " for," said he, "if I be 
declared Pope, I shall have to punish you for your crimes. u 
His election was confirmed, for Heaven had decreed it. 
After long endurance, and vainly waiting in the patience 
of his hope for the conversion of Henry, he at length ex- 
communicated him, and deprived him of his throne. The 
impious German sustained the cause of Gilbert the anti- 
pope, and marched on Rome. He encamped in the 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 369 

Vatican fields ; but a sudden and unexpected attack by a 
handful of the Pope's soldiers completely surprised and 
disconcerted his army ; a plague broke out among his 
troops, and he was obliged to retreat to the north. 

He came a second time, with a larger force, and greater 
hatred against the successor of St. Peter. He besieged the 
city once more. He set fire to St. Peter's, but the Roman 
people, under the immediate presence of Gregory himself, 
extinguished the flames before they had injured the Basilica. 
At length, after a siege of two years, by bribery, the Late- 
ran gate was opened to the German, and Gregory took 
refuge in the Castle of St. Angelo. For a month they 
surrounded the colossal tomb of Adrian, and tried in vain 
to seize the Pope, or even to pass the bridge, to take pos- 
session of St. Peter's. Relief came to the imprisoned 
pontiff in the person of Robert of Guiscard, a Norman 
captain, but a feudal chief of the Papal dominions. He 
was a hard, unfeeling conqueror, whose cruelties had 
already been condemned by the very pontiff he came to 
save. Henry fled at his approach ; but his partisans and 
a great number of the Roman people dared to resist Guis- 
card ; but they paid dearly for it. The haughty conqueror 
did not hesitate a moment ; he burned the city, and cut his 
way with the sword till he reached the Castle of St. An- 
gelo, and freed its papal prisoner. 

On this occasion, it was the friends of order, and not 
its enemies, that endeavored to sweep from the face of the 
earth every vestige that still remained of Pagan Rome. 
The whole city, from St. John's Lateran up to the Capitol, 
was laid in ruins. Some of the most remarkable monu- 
ments of antiquity, which had escaped to a great extent 
the fury of the Goths, and which still were the pride and 
glory of the city, fell under the iron hand of the enraged 
Guiscard. When he had gained the Capitol, over a field 

Y 



370 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

of smoking ruins, the people saw his desperate resolution 
to destroy the city. They gave up the Pope; Guiscard 
took him away to a quiet retreat in Salerno, where the great 
and holy Gregory sank under his many trials. 

It would be difficult to say how much of the Coliseum 
was ruined on this occasion. Marangoni, whom we be- 
lieve to be the most critical in his research, says, " Not 
only all that could be destroyed by fire within its rock- 
built walls, but its beautiful and artistic porticoes were 
ruined in the unsparing revenge of this friendly Goth. The 
seats in the interior were nearly all marble, but still there 
were wooden benches in the upper tiers, besides supports 
and ornaments, scattered through the immense fabric. 
That portion which looks toward the Ccelian Hill, and the 
arch of Constantine, bore in a particular manner the brunt 
of this storm, and it was from the fallen masses that lay 
here in crumbling heaps, that the material of several of 
the palaces of modern Rome was afterwards taken, as from 
an immense quarry of brick and travertine. Many of the 
Popes and Cardinals have been accused, by superficial 
writers, of being the first spoilers of this beautiful edifice ; 
indignant antiquaries despise the names of Paul the Second 
and the Cardinals Riario and Farnese, as having ruthlessly 
plundered this majestic monument of the past, to raise 
palaces of luxurious splendor amid the despicable and ir- 
regular homes of the mediaeval city. The truth is, that 
these men, who were animated by laudable motives to 
enrich and embellish the city, were only guilty of removing 
indiscriminate heaps of rubbish which lay for centuries 
around the old walls of the amphitheatre, as the sad traces 
of the revenge of Guiscard." But more of this question 
further on. 

Soon after the demise of Gregory VII. , the Coliseum 
was turned into a fortress, The political disturbances, and 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 37 1 

parricidal rebellions of the children of the Church, had 
reached the summit of their fury, and it is not at all im- 
probable, that some of the immediate successors of Gre- 
gory took refuge from the fury of the storm within the 
walls of the Coliseum. The pontiffs who reigned in those 
troubled times had to encounter greater perils than their 
predecessors, when they celebrated the holy mysteries in 
the dark caves of the earth. Rival factions had divided 
the city between them ; the tombs and theatres of the old 
empire became the castles and fortresses of the new aspi- 
rants to power. The Orsini had taken possession of the 
Castle of St. Angelo; the Colonnas were masters of the 
Mausoleum of Augustus j and the Frangepani, the most 
powerful of all, fortified the Coliseum. Surely the un- 
travelled reader will wonder how the tombs of the dead 
became strongholds of war. Do we really mean that the 
mouldering monuments of the forgotten dead are filled 
with thousands of armed men, and become impregnable 
fortresses ? 

Such was the stupendous magnificence of the mausoleums 
of Imperial Rome, that even now, after the storms and 
wars of two thousand years, their mighty ruins are still the 
pride of the city. The imperishable walls of the tomb of 
Adrian form to-day the only castle and fortress in the 
possession of the legitimate successor to the throne of the 
Caesars, Pius IX. 

Muratori relates that, when Innocent II. ascended the 
throne, he took refuge under the protection of the Frange- 
pani family in their palace and fortress of the Coliseum, 
being forced from the Lateran palace by the anti-pope Gis- 
bert, the same who raised his impious arm against the 
sainted Gregory VII. ("Ad tutas domos Frangepanum 
de Laterano.descendit, et apud Sanctam Mariam novam et 
Cartularium atque Coliseum," etc.) In the history of Fr. 



372 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

Tolomeo, bishop of Torcello, a contemporary, we find the 
same corroborated in these words : " Se recollegit in domi- 
bus Frangepanensium quae erant infra Coliseum ; quia dicta 
munitio fuit tota eorum," (He secured himself in the abodes 
of the Frangepani, which were within the Coliseum, for 
that fortress was entirely theirs). Passing over uninterest- 
ing details of the amphitheatre as a fortress, changing pro- 
prietors according to the fortunes of war, we will bring 
our readers to a strange scene that happened within its walls 
in the year 1332. 
j Nearly six centuries have passed since the Coliseum rang 
with the deafening shouts of a fascinated crowd of specta- 
tors. Many and strange the vicissitudes it passed through 
since its last bloody entertainment. Through every century 
from its foundation, its history was entwined with the sor- 
rows of the Roman people. Although it no longer echoed 
the plaintive sigh of the dying gladiator, yet many a wail 
of grief broke the solitude of its deserted seats. Its walls 
were smoked by fire, were shaken and destroyed in some 
places by the lightning of heaven, and disfigured in others 
by the implements of war. The wreck and ruin of every 
element of destruction that humbles man in the proudest 
of his works, had shorn the mighty amphitheatre of its 
magnificent details, leaving its rocky skeleton as a monu- 
ment of genius and art, triumphant over savage and brutal 
force. Its reminiscences are gathering deeper interest as 
centuries roll on, and the ever-changing vicissitudes of 
time give its history a varied page. Strange and interesting 
is the scene that is now before us. Its dilapidated tiers 
are once more filled with thousands of people, the arena 
is again tinged with blood, and the deafening chorus of an 
excited crowd is echoed through the ruins of the fallen 
city. It would seem that the spirits of the old Romans 
were permitted to leave the gloomy realms of Pluto, to 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 373 

revel for an hour in the great theatre that was for many- 
centuries the scene of their pleasure and their infamy. 
This extraordinary reunion in the Coliseum took place 
under the following circumstances : 

During the abode of the Popes at Avignon in the year 
1305, Clement V., endeavoring to quell the internal dissen- 
sions that robbed Rome of its peace, sent three Cardinal 
Legates into Italy, and gave them power to act in his name 
for the peace of the people. It was during this administra- 
tion that the Coliseum was transferred to the Senate. Mu- 
ratori, who mentions the circumstance, does not give the 
date of this transfer, but merely intimates that it was during 
the year 1328 and 1340. Just at this period a profound 
peace reigned in the city. The impious King Luis of 
Baniera had retreated to the North, and his anti-pope 
Nicholas II. was hooted and even stoned out of the city by 
the repentant Romans. A few years of sunshine and calm, 
so unusual in those centuries of political storms, gave the 
people an opportunity of indulging in some of the pastimes 
of peace. The Senators wished to show their joy and grati- 
tude for the munificent gift of the Coliseum, and determined 
to open the amphitheatre once more with some great spec- 
tacle for the people. A grand bull-fight — a species of 
cruel amusement which had become very popular in the 
southern countries of Europe at this time — was proposed 
to commemorate this great event. 

All the nobles of Italy were invited to take part in this 
entertainment, and for weeks and months beforehand pre- 
parations were made for the reunion. The Coliseum be- 
came the workshop of a thousand artisans ; the sound of the 
mallet and the hammer has taken the place of the clanging 
of arms and trumpets, and the ribald songs of soldiers. 
Temporary benches were erected on the massive framework 
of brick and travertine, and the debris that had choked the 
32 



374 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

passages and disfigured the arena were completely removed. 
All the preparations being finished, the day for the great 
entertainment was fixed for the 3d of September, 1332. 

It was indeed a strange sight, to see the Romans hastening 
enthusiastically to the long-forgotten Pagan amusements of 
their city. All business was suspended, and thousands of 
gay sight-seers poured in from the neighboring towns and 
villages. Early after daybreak the crowd commenced to 
gather round the old amphitheatre. The noble ladies of 
the city came in three parties — all in full dress, and led by 
three beautiful and w^lthy princes, unanimously elected 
by the different groups. We can agreeably fancy ourselves 
standing in the old arena, and see the ever-increasing tide 
of gay colors and gayer faces pouring into the benches. 
We have often stood in imagination in the same spot, while 
recording in these pages the scenes of the first centuries. 
Now we miss, indeed, the strong giant frame of the ancient 
Romans, and the dazzling gold and jewelled dais of the 
Emperor's seat ; there is no gorgeous velarium to stay the 
rays of the scorching sun, and disperse them in soft mellow 
tints ; the podium is no longer glittering with the wealth of 
the Empire, the Senators are few, and the graceful toga has 
disappeared ; no vestal virgins, or lying augurs, lend con- 
trast to the colors by the peculiarities of their dress, and 
impart a religious solemnity by their presence to the amuse- 
ments of impiety. The banners of the noble families float 
over the arena, and represent the ruling powers of the fallen 
Empire, for in these days every nobleman was a king in his 
own fortress. Yet the people are peaceful and orderly, the 
ear is not offended by horrible blasphemies against the true 
God, no obscenities and shameful immoralities beguile the 
time of the waiting crowd ; the demon of Paganism no 
longer sat on the imperial throne. This was the first, but 
will not be the last, Christian gathering within the walls of 
the Coliseum. 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 375 

Those who were to engage in the combat against the bulls 
were all, without exception, the sons of noblemen. We find 
among them names of families still flourishing among the 
aristocracy of Italy. The young men were dressed in the 
richest colors, and each bore a motto on his forehead ; this 
was generally some short sentence expressing virtue and 
courage, and culled from remarkable events in the past 
history of the city. We will give from Muratori a few of 
the most interesting and beautiful. They were called out 
by lot ; and the first to appear in the arena, amid the deafen- 
ing greetings of the crowd, was Galeotto Malatesta, of 
Rimini. He was dressed entirely in green, carried in his 
hand a naked sword of ancient shape, and on a cap of iron 
he had these words, "I alone am like Horace ! " Then 
came Cicco della Valle, dressed half black and half white, 
and from a scimitar-like sword there hung a purple ribbon 
with these words in gold, "I am Eneas for Lavinia!" 
Mezzo Astalli was clothed entirely in black, because he 
was in mourning for his wife, and his motto was, "Thus 
disconsolate do I live ! ' ' Young Caffarello was dressed 
in a lion-skin, and had for motto, "Who is stronger 
than I?" 

The son of Messer Lodovico della Palenta, from Ravenna, 
clothed in red and gold, bore on his forehead, " If I die 
covered with blood, sweet death ! ' ' Savello di Anagni, all 
yellow, with the motto, " Let every one beware of the folly 
of love. ' ' Cecco Conti had a beautiful dress of the color 
of silver, and these words, "Thus is faith white." Pietro 
Cappocci, dressed in the color of the carnation flower, had 
these words round his neck, " I am the slave of the Roman 
Lucretia, • ' meaning that he was the slave of chastity, per- 
sonified in the chaste Lucretia of ancient Rome. 

There were three of the Colonna family, who were the 
most powerful in Rome at this time, being in possession of 



37^ THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

the Capitol; they were dressed in white and green, and 
their mottoes were tinged with pride on account of their 
power. The eldest had, "If I fall, ye who look on will 
also fall," intimating that they were the honor and support 
of the city ; the second had, " So much the greater, so much 
the stronger; " and the third, " Sorrowful but powerful." 

Thus about fifty noblemen, young, healthy, and beauti- 
ful, bounded into the arena, all exquisitely dressed; the 
sun sparkled from burnished swords and jewelled buckles ; 
the colors of the rainbow, mingled together in every variety 
of contrast, gave brilliancy to the scene. But this amusement 
had a tragic end, perfectly in keeping with the blood-stained 
history of the Coliseum. Many of the young men dressed 
so gaily are but a few moments from a terrible death and 
eternity ; before the sun set on that day of cruel sport, many 
a wail of sorrow rent the warm air. The scene reminds of 
a pleasure party caught in the rapids of a river. Amid 
dancing and music and the blinding joys of intemperance, 
they recklessly turn the boat's head to the rapids, hoping to 
rescue themselves before reaching the terrible fall ; but too 
late ; the oars are powerless, the helm disobeys ; one mo- 
ment, and they are whirling over the seething mass and 
hurled into the abyss. In the wild folly of youthful vanity 
those noble young men built castles of valor and easy con- 
quest over the infuriated bulls; they relied too much on 
their agility, the sharpness of their swords, and the strength 
of their arms. During the day's amusement, eighteen of 
the flower of the Italian nobility were slain and nine were 
wounded. 

As may be imagined, bull-fighting met with no further 
encouragement in the eternal city. For a ' few hours of 
brutal amusement, noble houses were deprived of their 
support, and heirs and families were cast into mourning 
and gloom ; that day became a sad anniversary in the 



THE COLISEUM IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 377 

calendar of many a mother, wife, or betrothed one. The 
games were to last several days, but the fatal consequences 
of the first day sufficiently cooled the public ardor ; instead 
of pouring again in delighted crowds to the Coliseum, as 
the old Romans were wont to do, they went in mourning 
and sorrow to the Church of St. John Lateran, to assist at 
the obsequies of the fallen young men. Their mangled 
bodies were laid in the same tomb in the nave of the Basi- 
lica, where they have been now sleeping for five centuries, 
uncared for and unknown ; pilgrims from every land under 
the sun tread thoughtlessly on the mosaic pavement that 
covers their forgotten tomb ; they wake not for the loud 
peals of the organ and choir that ring through the majestic 
aisles of this maternal Basilica ; they await the music of 
the trumpets of the last day. 
32* 





CHAPTER XXIII. 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 




WO centuries of silence have rolled over the 
Coliseum since the fatal events narrated in the 
last chapter. Sixteen hundred years had now- 
left the traces of their passage on its crumbling 
walls. It was, however, comparatively perfect when man 
came to the assistance of time to destroy the noble ruin. 
For half a century, all the power of the lever, the crane, 
and the buffalo, were employed to drag its immense boul- 
ders of travertine from their rocky bed. We have said, 
silence hung over the mighty ruin, but we mean the silence 
of history, and the absence of countless crowds, yelling 
with frantic joy; yet there was the clear ringing sound of 
the stone-cutter's hammer ; there was the creaking of 
ponderous cranes, lifting huge masses of stone, and the 
well-known cry of the buffalo-driver calling his beasts by 
name, and forcing them by the steel goad to drag away 
the rifled marble and travertine, of the last and greatest 
monument of ancient Rome. Not only the masses which 
were loosened and had fallen by decay, but an immense 
quantity of the intact building, was quarried away to em- 
bellish the city, that has arisen on the very debris of the 
mighty Rome of the past. 
Some historians have endeavored to brand the authors 

378 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 2>79 

of this spoliation with the guilt of sacrilege. And Gib- 
bon, speaking of the Coliseum, says, "Of whose ruin, the 
nephews of Paul III. have been the guilty agents, and every 
traveller who views the Farnese palace may curse the sacri- 
lege and luxury of these upstart princes. ' ' Perhaps, if those 
who helped to ruin the Coliseum had not been princes of 
the Church, the criticism might have been less severe. It 
must also be remembered that the Farnese palace was 
erected from the designs of Sangallo, and under the im- 
mediate direction of Michael Angelo, and is universally 
admitted to be one of the finest palaces in Rome, and per- 
haps in the world. While its magnificence and artistic 
perfection give rise to expressions of wonder and delight, 
enough of the Coliseum remains to tell its own tale of 
splendor and immensity. Not only the Farnese, but the 
Cancelleria, St. Mark's, and the fronts of several churches 
in the city, were supplied with material from the amphi- 
theatre ; and the gigantic proportions of this splendid ruin 
may be gathered from the fact, that modern Rome owes 
the magnificence and solidity of its architecture to that 
spoliation, which is scarcely missed from the immense pile 
itself. The material remaining after the plunder of the 
amphitheatre, has been estimated at a value of five mil- 
lions of crowns, (^i, 000,000.) 

It is certain, however, that all antiquaries, and the 
lovers of ancient architecture in particular, must condemn 
the ruthless plunder and spoliation which left the majestic 
ruin in its present state. Whatever excuse may be allowed 
for the Pauls and their nephews (as Gibbon sarcastically 
calls them), for the removal of even the loose and separated 
materials, nothing can be urged in justification of their im- 
mediate successors, who quarried the travertine from the 
intact building itself. It is uncertain at what precise period 
the Roman Government put a stop to this demolition ; 



380 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

most probably the ruin was taken under the paternal pro- 
tection of the popes, during the reign of the sainted Pius 
V. in 1565 ; certainly, from this time it was held in the 
highest veneration by both government and people, and 
although in after-times it served the public weal as an hos- 
pital or a manufactory, it was no longer plundered by lux- 
urious princes. 

Under Sixtus V. (a. d, 1585), the Coliseum underwent 
another change. No city was ever more indebted to its 
sovereign than was Rome to this great Pope. While 
churches and convents and bridges sprang up on every 
side, the crumbling ruins of the ancient city were supported 
and protected by walls of modern masonry. The pros- 
trate obelisks were raised on suitable pedestals in the public 
squares, and works of art were dug from the earth to orna- 
ment and increase the attraction of the museums, which, 
under his care, were becoming the richest in the world. 
This energetic Pontiff conceived the idea, that every ruin 
of the ancient city should be an ornament or a service to 
Christian Rome. The Coliseum was a favorite monument ; 
it received a double share of attention. For some time he 
thought how it could be made to serve his poor people, 
preserving it at the same time, even in its ruinous state, as 
a noble memento of the past. He at length conceived the 
idea of converting it into a woollen manufactory, in order 
to give employment and a home to the poor. The fertile 
genius of Fontano soon designed this castle of papal muni- 
ficence ; thousands of poor artisans were employed ; some 
portions of the ruin verging towards the arena were removed 
as impeding the plan ; work-shops and comfortable apart- 
ments were to rise magic-like over the podium of the old 
amphitheatre, and the dried-up aqueducts were repaired 
and cleaned out to bring fresh springs from the Campagna, 
to supply the fountains that were to play in the arena. 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 38 1 

The sum of twenty-five thousand crowns (^5000) had 
already been spent on the works, when death took away 
the enterprising Pontiff. The stupendous scheme sank 
with him to the grave ; the works were abandoned, and a 
few brick walls remained to tell of the enterprise and phi- 
lanthropy of Sixtus V. The celebrated Mabillon has said, 
" Vixisset Sixtus V. et Amphitheatrum, stupendum illud 
opus integratum nunc haberemus," (had Sixtus V. lived, 
we should now have the amphitheatre, that stupendous 
work, entire.) 

Clement XI. (in 1700), finding it had become a place of 
refuge for thieves and assassins, closed up the entrances to the 
lower arches, and established in the interior a saltpetre manu- 
factory. This, which also failed, like the works of Sixtus, 
was the last attempt to secularize the ruins of the Coliseum. 

While the vicissitudes of spoliation in one reign, and of 
preservation in another, were passing over the great build- 
ing that has survived both friends and foes, there was always 
a deep feeling of respect and veneration, in the heart of the 
people, for the spot which had been sanctified by the blood 
of so many martyrs. Through every century there were holy 
souls who loved to pass hours in prayer in its consecrated 
arena. And long before it was entirely handed over to the 
service of the cross, it had witnessed some of the most 
solemn and sacred functions of the Church. Although we 
have no positive documents to prove the fact, we have no 
doubt that for many years during the Middle Ages, the holy 
sacrifice was celebrated in its safe and commodious arches. 
After the devastation of the Goths, and the centuries of 
internal wars that rolled over the ill-fated city, the churches 
had fallen to decay, and many of them were dangerous and 
unsafe for use. Is it to be wondered at, under these cir- 
cumstances, that the Coliseum should be used as a vast 
temple in which the clean oblation of the altar should be 
offered to the Most High ? Many smaller churches sprung 



382 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

up around it. Cencius Camerarius mentions a few which 
have long since disappeared. There was the "Holy Saviour 
of the Rota of the Coliseum" the " Holy Saviour De Insula 
et Coliseo," and the "Forty Martyrs of the Coliseum." 

•Here also took place a species of sacred performance very 
popular with our ancestors. These were the mystery-plays 
of the Middle Ages ; and the life-like representation of the 
passion on Good-Friday was particularly remarkable. On 
a large and open stage, stretched towards the Ccelian Hill, 
the whole scene of the passion and death orour Blessed 
Lord was represented; every person mentioned in the Sacred 
Scripture was faithfully portrayed. Thousands poured in 
to see these representations ; they continued, with the per- 
mission and sanction of the spiritual authorities of the city, 
until the reign of Paul III. 

Bacci, in his Life of St. Philip Neri, relates of this great 
father that he had from his childhood a great devotion to 
the martyrs. Hence he passed whole nights in prayer in 
the Catacombs of St. Sebastian. He often repaired to the 
Coliseum, to honor the martyrs who suffered in its arena. 
On one occasion, when rapt in prayer in the arena, the 
demon appeared to him in an immodest shape, and endea- 
vored to distract and tempt him ; but the saint had recourse 
to God, and the evil spirit was obliged to leave him to 
finish his devotions in peace. 

An extraordinary circumstance is related of one of the 
disciples of St. Ignatius in the life of that father, by MarTei, 
(Book iii. chap, ix.) Almighty God was pleased to try the 
infant institution just founded by St. Ignatius ; this, how- 
ever, was the surest sign of His favor and benediction. It 
happened that the house of the professed fathers was reduced 
to such distress that they had barely the necessaries of life. 
John Cruccio, who was a colleague of the saint and pro- 
curator of the house, was an humble soul of exalted virtue, 
and with the permission of ^he venerable founder, he went 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 383 

to St. John's Lateran to pray to Almighty God for relief 
for the order. On returning home he passed through the 
Coliseum. He was met in the arena by a stranger, who 
handed him a purse with a hundred crowns (^20), and 
immediately disappeared. The astonished procurator hast- 
ened to tell St. Ignatius of the unexpected gift ; the saint 
did not seem the least surprised, but kneeling down thanked 
God who had deigned to hear their prayers. It is said of 
this same St. Ignatius that he had great devotion to the mar- 
tyrs, especially those of the Coliseum. 

In the life of St. Camillus de Lellis, a contemporary of 
St. Philip Neri, and founder of the order of Regular Clerics 
for ministering to the Sick, we find another extraordinary 
favor granted at the Coliseum. When Camillus was a young 
man studying for the priesthood, he went one morning with 
a number of other youths to the church of St. John Lateran 
to receive the tonsure from the hands of the Cardinal Vicar. 
It was found, however, there was some mistake in his dimis- 
sorial letters, as he belonged to the diocese of Chieti ; he 
was, consequently, with much shame and disappointment, 
separated from his companions. The holy youth bore the 
cross nobly, and cheerfully accepted the mortification as 
coming from the hand of God to try his patience. His sub- 
mission did not pass without its reward. On his way home, 
when he came to the Coliseum, something told him he 
would get over his difficulty in a few hours. At the same 
moment he met Father Francis Profeta, his companion and 
friend, who told him not to be in the least disappointed at 
what had happened, for it would be all right before sunset. 
This was an inspiration given him by God in behalf of the 
holy youth. On reaching the hospital of St. James of the 
Incurables, where he lived, he found a priest from his own 
diocese waiting for him. The good father was much afflicted 
at the disappointment of Camillus, and immediately went 
with another priest to the Notary of the Cardinal, and testi- 



384 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

fied on oath to the authenticity of the exeat of Camillus. 
He was sent for at once, and admitted into the ecclesiastical 
state, which filled him with a joy he had never before felt. 

In the year 1703, the Coliseum suffered severely from an 
earthquake. This event is memorable in the annals of the 
city, as well as in the history of the amphitheatre. Two or 
three heavy shocks had already been felt during the latter 
part of the month of January, and the people were in con- 
sternation. On the 2d of February, Clement XI. held a 
papal chapel in the Sixtine, in honor of the purification of 
the Blessed Virgin Mary. At the end of the Mass, two very 
heavy shocks of earthquake were again felt ; they were much 
severer than any of the former. All the prelates in the Six- 
tine were terrified ; the roof cracked as if about to fall on 
the Pope and Cardinals ; the holy father knelt down, and 
every one present joined in a silent and trembling prayer 
for the preservation of the city. The bell-tower of St. Au- 
gustine's and the obelisk in the piazza Navona were seen to 
lean forward as if about to fall, and many old houses in the 
neighborhood fell to the ground. When the rumbling noise 
had ceased, and the vibration which seemed to be the effect 
of the shock had died away, the Pope with all the Cardinals 
repaired to the tomb of the Apostles, to thank God for their 
delivery. On the Scala Regia he was met by one of the 
Penitentiaries of the Basilica, who endeavored to dissuade 
him from going into the church, for they had seen the 
mighty dome itself rocking to and fro, and threatening 
every moment to come down in a mass on their heads. 
Nevertheless, the courageous Pontiff entered the Basilica, 
and remained more than an hour in prayer at the tomb of 
St. Peter. 

On the following afternoon (Feb. 3), about three o'clock, 
the last and most terrible shock was felt. A sound like 
thunder rolled through the city ; three arches of the Coli- 
seum fell to the ground ; every house was seriously shaken, 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 385 

and many people were flung forward on the earth through 
the vehemence of the shock. 

In the midst of the confusion, some wicked men circu- 
lated the report that it was revealed to the Pope that the 
city was to be destroyed, and that the people should leave 
it at once. Their object was robbery and plunder. The 
report gained ground, and a terrible scene ensued. Men 
and women and children rushed in crowds to the gates, car- 
rying what valuables they could in their arms; mothers, 
with tender infants at the breast, and feeble old men on the 
shoulders of stalwart youth, and boys and girls half dressed, 
ran after their terrified parents, seeking refuge in the fields 
outside the city. Exclamations of terror and fright were 
heard on every side, as if the day of judgment had come. 
While the poor people were trembling in the open Cam- 
pagna, during the whole of that cold February night, ex- 
pecting every moment to see their homes in flames or 
swallowed up in the earth, thieves were pillaging their 
houses, and making away with every valuable they could 
lay hold of. In the morning, the Pope sent his guards 
through every place of refuge, and ordered the people back 
again, for the report was false, and "he assured them there 
was no longer any fear for the safety of the city. 

When calm was restored, the holy Pope celebrated a 
Mass of thanksgiving in the Church of Sta. Maria in Tras- 
tavere, and walked bareheaded in a procession to the Ba- 
silica of St Peter. He then proclaimed that, for a hundred 
years, the vigil of the Feast of the Purification should be 
kept a strict fast. This fast was renewed in 1803, by Pius 
VII., and is still kept with devotion in Rome, in memory 
of this great event. 

About eleven years after the event we have recorded, the 
Coliseum was rapidly becoming the resort of thieves and 
vagabonds, who concealed themselves by night under the 
33 Z 



386 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM, 

dark and sombre passages of its arches. The venerable 
Angelo Paulo, of the Carmelite Order, had just erected an 
hospital in the adjoining street of St. Clement, and was a 
frequent eye-witness to the profanation of the venerable 
ruin. Fired with a holy zeal for the honor of the mar- 
tyrs, he procured the authorization of Clement XL in 1714, 
and by public subscription, in which the Roman people 
liberally joined, he removed the debris of the fallen arches, 
closed up the open passages, and even secured the principal 
entrances by wooden gates, which were locked at night to 
prevent the free access of animals and evil-designing men. 
No traces of these gates remain at present. 

Our next notice of the amphitheatre is in the reign of 
the great Pope Benedict XIV., a.d. 1740. 

A few years sufficed to sweep away the barriers that im- 
peded for a while the desecration of the ruin. The ven- 
erable Angelo Paulo had gone to his reward, and the 
Coliseum soon became worse than ever — the home of in- 
famy and vice. The evil went on increasing, but silently 
and unknown to the authorities. At length, crime became 
its own informer ; a terrible tragedy revealed the after-dark 
scenes of the Coliseum. 

A holy man named Francis Parigino, wishing to lead a 
solitary life, repaired to the silent corridors of the amphi- 
theatre, assuming, with the permission of the authorities, 
the guardianship of the little chapel that was dedicated to 
our Mother of Sorrows on the second tier. He had not 
been long in his retreat when, in the dead of the night, his 
solitude was broken by the sound of human voices in the arches 
beneath. The noise increased, and he heard every word that 
was uttered. His horror may be imagined when he heard 
a hoarse, rough voice distinctly say, "I'll murder you if 
you don't do as I tell you." Then the scream of a female 
rung loud and shrill through the silent ruin. Recommend- 
ing himself to God, he rushed bravely to give assistance to 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 387 

stay the hand of a murderer. But when he reached the 
spot whence the sound proceeded, all was as still as death ; 
and with his heart beating hard in his breast, he groped his 
way through the dark and sombre arches. It was in the 
depth of winter, and not even a straggling moonbeam broke 
through the darkness. He paused to catch even the sound 
of the breathing of a human being, but the wind was strong, 
and sighed mournfully through the haunted ruin. At length, 
trembling and terrified, he heard a noise near him. Before 
he had time to speak or stir, a strong rough hand seized 
him by the throat, and the blow of a knife brought him to 
the ground. 

When morning dawned, the poor hermit came to his 
senses. He found himself lying in a pool of blood, which 
flowed from seven wounds of a stiletto. The first had taken 
away consciousness, and he had not felt the pain of the 
others. His first act was to raise his heart towards heaven 
to thank God that he was so far preserved. There was no 
friendly hand near to help him to his little chapel, for he 
wished to offer his wounds to his dear mother whose image 
he venerated so much. After much struggling and pain, 
falling several times through weakness, he reached his be- 
loved capella. He poured forth all his soul in prayer ; he 
asked but for grace to do the will of God. While kneel- 
ing as well as he could before the altar of the Madonna, he 
suddenly felt a change come over him ; the pain left his 
wounds ; he thought some delicious ointment was poured 
on them ; he was cured. For hours his tears of joy, sur- 
prise, and gratitude fell on the tiled floor of the little 
church. With a heart bursting with that interior joy and 
peace that surpasseth all understanding, he could only ex- 
claim, "Oh, my good mother ! my good mother ! " 

It is the property of Almighty God to draw good from 
evil. The rumor of the attempted murder and the mirac- 
ulous cure spread abroad, and numbers came through de- 



388 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

votion or curiosity to see the hermit and his Madonna. One 
day Benedict XIV. came to the Coliseum to venerate its 
martyrs, for whom he had a great devotion. He sent for 
the poor hermit, and heard from his own lips all that had 
happened. The zealous Pontiff was inspired with a holy 
zeal to save the venerable pile from further profanation. 
He ordered the governor of the city to issue an edict, 
threatening the galleys and exile to persons found loitering 
about these hiding-places after nightfall. Great repairs 
were undertaken at his own expense : the chapel was re- 
newed ; the Stations of the Cross already erected were 
reconstructed on a larger and grander scale, and an impulse 
was given to the devotion and reverence towards this re- 
markable ruin that has not died away to this day. It was 
on this occasion that the confraternity of The Lovers of 
Jesus and Mary 071 Calvary was instituted. They go in 
procession from their little church in the Forum to the 
Coliseum evejy Friday afternoon ; a sermon is preached 
by a Franciscan monk on the Passion, and then, in wet, or 
heat, or cold, the pious members go through the beautiful 
devotions of the Way of the Cross. The great St. Leon- 
ard of Port Maurice was the preacher who opened these 
devotions ; and the fire of his eloquence and love seems 
to animate the humble monks who follow in his footsteps, 
for there is scarcely any devotion so sincere, or so loved 
by the Roman people, as the Stations of the Cross 'in the 
Coliseum on Friday evenings. Pious souls gather from 
every portion of the city to join them ; and their recollec- 
tion and piety, their penance in the sackcloth of the con- 
fraternities, and kneeling bareheaded on the sandy arena, 
strike with reverence and awe the giddy strangers who have 
come to scoff and ridicule. Their thoughts are suddenly 
taken from scenes of gladiators, and shouts against the 
Christians and the cross, to see that cross borne in triumph 
on the same spot by the Christ : ans themselves. Could any 



OTHER REMARKABLE EVENTS. 389 

return more pleasing be given to our Blessed Lord, for the 
insults He received in the Coliseum, than the humble devo- 
tion of those pious souls around His saving cross ? 

About the year 1775, another remarkable hermit took 
possession of the little chapel on the second story. He 
was a Frenchman, who gave up all worldly possessions to 
follow our Blessed Lord in evangelical poverty. This holy 
man spent many sleepless nights in prayer in the Coliseum. 
Often the Divine Spirit flooded his soul with joys unknown 
to the sleeping world around ; to him there was neither 
darkness nor silence in the lonely ruin; the splendor of the 
angels who kept him company was more brilliant than the 
dazzling brightness of the meridian sun ; the music of the 
heavenly choirs, so often heard by him in his ecstasies, 
floated in celestial harmony through the cold bleak arches 
of this abandoned monument of the past which served him 
for a home. When this poor hermit of the Coliseum had 
breathed his pure soul into the hands of God, a thousand 
voices proclaimed through the city that a saint was dead. 
Public opinion had immediately enrolled him on the calen- 
dar of sanctity, and miracles without number proved that 
this judgment was ratified in heaven. A few years later 
he was proclaimed " Blessed" by the infallible voice of the 
Holy See ; and one of the last, though not the least, re- 
markable names that swell the lengthy catalogue of Rome's 
spiritual heroes was Benedict Joseph Labre, the hermit of 
the Coliseum. 

The first half of the nineteenth century, so stormy and 
eventful in the nations around, rolled a silent wave over 
the Coliseum. With the exception of timely repairs insti- 
tuted by the last four popes, and the ever-increasing devo- 
tion and reverence of the people, we have nothing to record. 
The immense buttresses erected by Pius VII. on the side 
facing St. John's Lateran, form a splendid specimen of 
33* 



390 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

modern masonry. In the last arches of the outer wall in 
this quarter, there is a peculiar phenomenon of art, worthy 
the attention of the stranger. The keystone of one of the 
arches has fallen completely into the supporting brick wall 
of modern work. All around, the mighty travertine blocks 
are rent with gaping fissures ; the whole ruin seems ready 
to totter and fall to a thousand pieces, at the first gust of 
wind ; yet this is the safest portion of the ruin. 

The immortal Pius IX., in the midst of all his troubles, 
has not forgotten the venerable ruin that bears, through so 
many centuries, the marks of paternal care from the Holy 
See. Under the able superintendence of Canina, many 
of the interior arches which threatened to fall have been 
secured, and seem to defy the ravages of time for centuries 
yet to come. 

In the dark hour of trouble that passed over Rome in 
1848, the Coliseum had its share of the profanation and 
impiety that drove the Pope from his throne. An apostate 
priest usurped the pulpit of the Franciscan Friars ; instead 
of a moving address on the love and sorrows of the Cruci- 
fied, a fanatical mob was regaled by a tissue of blasphe- 
mies against everything sacred in time and eternity. Led 
on by the fallen Gavazzi, the ungrateful Roman populace 
made the old Coliseum ring with that dreadful shout that 
so often shook its foundations when filled by their Pagan 
ancestors, "Down with the Pope ! " " Death to all tyrants ! " 
These, and similar expressions used on this occasion, were 
but another form of those blasphemies which so much de- 
lighted the evil spirits in the first centuries ; they had the 
same object in view, the ruin of souls, and the annihilation 
of Christianity ! But that power which is centred in Pius 
IX., and triumphed of old in a thousand battles with the 
powers of darkness, in the very same arena of the Coliseum, 
laughed at its enemies in their folly, yea, laughed at -them, 
too ; in their terrible transit to eternal doom ! 





CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE CONCLUSION. 

T is with regret we find ourselves at the last chap- 
ter of this little book. We feel as if we were 
about to part with an old friend. The occa- 
sional hours we have spent over the records 
of this great ruin, the history of which we have but 
sketched in these pages, will in after -years afford the 
most cheerful reminiscences, and matter for the deepest 
meditation. A few weeks more, and thousands of miles 
will separate us ; the briny ocean will roll its unceasing tide 
between us and that great monument in whose arena we 
have stood in rapture and delight, but memory will often 
again bring us back in spirit to these old walls. For some 
there is poetry, eloquence, and philosophy in the ivy-clad 
ruins of the past : although nothing more may be known of 
them, than that they are the crumbling walls of a castle, an 
abbey, or a church, still they have their attraction, fancy 
flings around them all the charms of art, and clothes them 
with the beauty of romance. The active mind sums up 
tales of human vicissitudes ; battles, and murders, and deeds 
of daring and crime, are flung around them : and thus, 
creative fancy invests with poetical magnificence the hum- 
blest monument of the past. But the old amphitheatre is 
a ruin that needs not the aid of fancy to increase it in size 

391 



392 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

or importance. Its immensity and magnificence as it stands 
even now, after the shock and destruction of centuries, form 
a picture grander and more perfect than any castle ever 
built by imagination on the clouds around the setting sun. 
No fancy, no poetry could invent a more marvellous his- 
tory. The greatest wonders found in the records of the 
past; scenes of love, of bravery, of crime, and cruelty, 
form a romance of terrible reality, that shrouds the Coli- 
seum with an interest and a veneration that no other ruin 
in the world can command. 

Roman in its origin, Oriental in its size, Grecian in its 
architecture, Jewish in the laborers who built it, cosmopol- 
itan in its spectacles of men and beasts from every clime, 
and Christian in the blood that sanctified it, during three 
centuries, it was the theatre of the most bloody and cruel 
pleasures, and the temple of the most heroic virtue. In 
the lapse of ages, it adapted itself to the exigencies of each 
era. At one time a fortress, now a convent, then an hospital : 
an arena and a circus for a bull-fight and a tournament ; a 
quarry supplying material for the most sumptuous edifices ; 
a manufactory ; a robbers' den ; and in the end, a sanctu- 
ary and a shrine to which pilgrims resort from the farthest 
ends of the earth. Thus in a few words we sum up its ex- 
traordinary and interesting history. After centuries of in- 
famy and cruelty, it is now the hallowed temple wherein i$ 
preached the law of self-denial and expiation. The regen- 
eration of Rome is beautifully portrayed in the destinies of 
its greatest Pagan monuments. The Pantheon, once the 
centre of all the aberrations of idolatry, is now the temple 
of all the Christian virtues. The temple of Jupiter on the 
Capitol, the culminating point of Rome's dominion over 
the world, is now replaced by the Church of Ara Cceli — 
the Church of the Crib — the abasement of the MarrGod — 
the contempt of all the grandeurs of the world. The palace 



conclusion. 393 

of the Caesars, which was the emporium of all the riches of 
the world, is reduced to a few ivy-clad walls, which protect 
a convent of voluntary poverty, raised amid the very debris 
of the Golden House; and the Coliseum, the theatre of 
the furies and the passions, becomes a monument sheltered 
under the wings of religion, and dedicated to the Cross, to 
the self-denial and humiliation taught us in the Dolorous 
"Way of Calvary. 

It remains now that we see the Coliseum by moonlight. 
The effect is truly charming. The French have beautifully 
called the moon the sun of ruins. Her rich mellow rays 
give all old walls a fantastic existence ; but there is no mon- 
ument of antiquity in which the effects of reflected light 
are so beautiful as in this ruin. The Romans prefer the 
time in which the moon is rising between Frascati and 
Monte Porzio, so that they may see the whole splendor of 
its silvery light poured down on the most perfect part of 
the immense fabric. The broken arches and isolated frag- 
ments, under the magic influence of moonlight, assume the 
appearance of castles, of temples, and triumphal arches, 
rising on each other to the heavens in fairy splendor. 
Mighty walls seem riven in twain, and appear to bend over 
their centre of gravity, like the leaning towers of Pisa and 
Bologna, suspended in the air, and threatening every mo- 
ment to fall with a tremendous crash. Here a broken and 
fallen column assumes the appearance of a dying gladiator 
or a martyred Christian ; there a cornice, half buried in 
the ruins, reminds you of a lioness gathering herself up for 
a spring on a tiger or a bear \ and here again a heap of 
earth, lit up by some scattered rays that steal through the 
fissures in the great wall, seems like a gigantic elephant 
about to perform extraordinary manoeuvres at the command 
of his keepers ; the plants and flowers that deck every por- 
tion of the ruin, and move to and fro in the gentle breeze, 



394 THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 

remind you of the moving masses that once filled these 
desolate benches. 

But we have been inadvertently intruding on the domain 
of the poets. The Coliseum by moonlight is a theme 
sacred to the Muses. Cold and uninspired is the prose of the 
historian, compared with the sublime verses of Byron and 
Monckton Milnes. We will give an extract from each of 
those writers. Let the beauty and power of their gifted 
pens lend the magnificence of a transformation scene to 
this last page of our chapter of tragedies ; let the joy and 
elevation of feeling found in reading those sublime and 
eloquent verses of the immortal dead, make the reader 
forget the shortcoming of the pen that now closes its labors 
of love. 



I do remember me, that in my youth, 

When I was wandering upon such a night, 

I stood within the Coliseum's wall, 

'Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; 

The trees that grew along the broken arches 

Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars 

Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar 

The watch-dog bay'd beyond the Tiber ; and 

More near, from out the Caesar's palace, came 

The owl's long cry, and interruptedly, 

Of distant sentinels, the fitful song 

Begun and died on the gentle wind. 

Some cypresses beyond the time-worn beach 

Appear'd to skirt the horizon ; yet they stood 

Within a bowshot. Where the Caesars dwelt, 

And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst 

A grove which springs through levell'd battlements, 

And twines its roots with the imperial hearths, 

Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ; 

But the gladiator's bloody circus stands, 



conclusion. 395 

A noble wreck in ruinous perfection ! 

While Caesars' chambers and the Augustan halls 

Grovel on earth in indistinct decay. 

And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon 

All this, and cast a wide and tender light, 

Which soften' d down the hoar austerity 

Of rugged desolation, and fill'd up, 

As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries — 

Leaving that beautiful which still was so, 

And making that which was not, till the place 

Became religion, and the heart ran o'er 

With silent worship of the great of old ; 

The dead but sceptred sovereigns who still rule 

Our spirits from their urns. 

Manfred. 



I stood one night, one rich Italian night, 
When the moon's lamp was prodigal with light, 
Within that circus whose enormous range, 
Though rent and shatter' d by a life of change, 
Still stretches forth its undiminish'd span, 
Telling the weakness and the strength of man. 
In that vague hour which magnifies the great, 
When desolation seems most desolate, 
I thought not of the rushing crowds of yore, 
Who fill'd with din the vasty corridor ! 
Those hunters of fierce pleasure are swept by, 
And host on host has trampled where they lie. 
But where is he that stood so strong and bold, 
In his thick armor of enduring gold — 
Whose massive form, irradiant as the sun, 
Baptized the work his glory beamed upon 
With his own name, Colossal ? — From the day 
Has that sublime illusion slunk away, 
Leaving a blank, weed-matted pedestal 
Of his high place, the sole memorial? 



39^ 



THE MARTYRS OF THE COLISEUM. 



And is this, the miracle of imperial power, 

The chosen of his tutelage, hour by hour, 

Following his doom, and Rome alive ? Awake, 

Weak mother ! orphan' d as thou art, to take, 

From fate this sordid boon of lengthen'd life ; 

Of most unnatural life which is not life, 

As thou wert used to live. Oh ! rather stand 

In thy green waste, as on the palm-fleck' d sand, 

Old Tadmor, hiding not its death; — a tomb 

Haunted by sounds of life, is none the less a tomb. 

Then from that picture of the wreck-strewn ground, 

Which the arch held in frame-work, slowly round 

I turn'd my eyes and fixed them, where was seen 

A long, spare shadow, stretch'd across the green, 

The shadow of the crucifix — that stood 

A simple shape, of rude, uncarv£d wood, 

Raising erect and firm its lowly head 

Amid that pomp of ruin, — amid the dead 

A sign of silent life ; — the mystery 

Of Rome's immortal being was then made clear to me. 



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